'When you like. When? To-morrow?'

'To-morrow would be nice.'

'Where--in the National?'

'No, in the park. It will be nicer in the park. Then about eleven.'

At five minutes past eleven he saw her coming through the trees, and
she signed to him with a little movement of her parasol, which was
particularly charming, and which seemed to him to express her. They
walked from the bridge along the western bank; the trees were prettier
there, and from their favourite seat they saw the morning light silver
the water, the light mist evaporate, and the trees on the other bank
emerge from vague masses into individualities of trunk and bough. The
day was warm, though there was little sun, and the park swung a great
mass of greenery under a soft, grey sky.

The drake and the two ducks came swimming towards them--the drake, of
course, in the middle, looking very handsome and pleased, and at a
little distance the third duck pursued her rejected and disconsolate
courtship. Whenever she approached too near, the drake rushed at her
with open beak, and drove her back. Then she affected not to know
where she was going, wandering in an aimless, absent-minded fashion,
getting near and nearer her recalcitrant drake. But these ruses were
wasted upon him; he saw through them all, and at last he attacked the
poor broken-hearted duck so determinedly that she was obliged to seek
safety in flight. And the entire while of the little aquatic comedy
the wisdom of an engagement had been discussed between Ralph and
Mildred. She had consented. But her promise had not convinced Ralph,