They rested on a bench on one of those small triangles of breathing space which the city ekes out now and then; mill ends of land parcels.

He took immediately to roving the toe of his shoe in and out among the gravel.  She stole out her hand to his arm.

“Well, Jimmie?” Her voice was in the gauze of a whisper that hardly left her throat.

“Well, what?” he said, still toeing.

“There—­there’s a lot of things we never thought about, Jimmie.”

“Aw!”

“Eh, Jimmie?”

“You mean you never thought about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what I mean alrighty.”

“I—­I was the one that suggested it, Jimmie, but—­but you fell in.  I—­I just couldn’t bear to think of it, Jimmie—­your going and all.  I suggested it, but—­but you fell in.”

“Say, when a fellow’s shoved he falls.  I never gave a thought to sneaking an exemption until it was put in my head.  I’d smash the fellow in the face that calls me coward, I will.”

“You could have knocked me down with a feather, Jimmie, looking at it his way all of a sudden.”

“You couldn’t knock me down.  Don’t think I was ever strong enough for the whole business.  I mean the exemption part.  I wasn’t going to say anything.  What’s the use, seeing the way you had your heart set on—­on things?  But the whole business, if you want to know it, went against my grain.  I’ll smash the fellow in the face that calls me coward.”

“I know, Jimmie; you—­you’re right.  It was me suggested hurrying things like this.  Sneakin’!  Oh, God! ain’t I the messer-up!”

“Lay easy, girl.  I’m going to see it through.  I guess there’s been fellows before me and will be after me who have done worse.  I’m going to see it through.  All I got to say is I’ll smash up the fellow calls me coward.  Come on, forget it.  Let’s go.”

She was close to him, her cheek crinkled against his with the frank kind of social unconsciousness the park bench seems to engender.

“Come on, Gert.  I got a hunger on.”

’"Shh-h-h, Jimmie!  Let me think.  I’m thinking.”

“Too much thinking killed a cat.  Come on.”

“Jimmie!”

“Huh?”

“Jimmie—­would you—­had you ever thought about being a soldier?”

“Sure.  I came in an ace of going into the army that time after—­after that little Central Street trouble of mine.  I’ve got a book in my trunk this minute on military tactics.  Wouldn’t surprise me a bit to see me land in the army some day.”

“It’s a fine thing, Jimmie, for a fellow—­the army.”

“Yeh, good for what ails him.”

She drew him back, pulling at his shoulder so that finally he faced her.  “Jimmie!”

“Huh?”

“I got an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“You remember once, honey-bee, how I put it to you that night at Ceiner’s how, if it was for your good, no sacrifice was too much to make.”