The benches on either side were filled with nursemaids in charge of baby-carriages, and of young children who were digging in the sand with their little beach shovels, and playing their games back and forth across the walk unrebuked by the indulgent policemen.  A number of them had enclosed a square in the middle of the path with four of the benches, which they made believe was a fort.  The lovers had to walk round it; and the children, chasing one another, dashed into them headlong, or, backing off from pursuit, bumped up against them.  They did not seem to know it, but walked slowly on without noticing:  they were not aware of an occasional benchful of rather shabby young fellows who stared hard at the stylish girl and well-dressed young man talking together in such intense low tones, with rapid interchange of radiant glances.

“Oh, as to making fun of you, I was going to say—­” Mavering began, and after a pause he broke off with a laugh.  “I forget what I was going to say.”

“Try to remember.”

“I can’t.”

“How strange that we should have both happened to go to the Museum this morning!” she sighed.  Then, “Dan,” she broke in, “do you suppose that heaven is any different from this?”

“I hope not—­if I’m to go there.”

“Hush, dear; you mustn’t talk so.”

“Why, you provoked me to it.”

“Did I?  Did I really?  Do you think I tempted you to do it?  Then I must be wicked, whether I knew I was doing it or not.  Yes.”

The break in her voice made him look more keenly at her, and he saw the tears glimmer in her eyes.  “Alice!”

“No; I’m not good enough for you.  I always said that.”

“Then don’t say it any more.  That’s the only thing I won’t let you say.”

“Do you forbid it, really?  Won’t you let me even think it?”

“No, not even think it.”

“How lovely you are!  Oh!  I like to be commanded by you.”

“Do you?  You’ll have lots of fun, then.  I’m an awfully commanding spirit.”

“I didn’t suppose you were so humorous—­always.  I’m afraid you won’t like me.  I’ve no sense of fun.”

“And I’m a little too funny sometimes, I’m afraid.”

“No, you never are.  When?”

“That night at the Trevors’.  You didn’t like it.”

“I thought Miss Anderson was rather ridiculous,” said Alice.  “I don’t like buffoonery in women.”

“Nor I in men,” said Mavering, smiling.  “I’ve dropped it.”

“Well, now we must part.  I must go home at once,” said Alice.  “It’s perfectly insane.”

“Oh no, not yet; not till we’ve said something else; not till we’ve changed the subject.”

“What subject?”

“Miss Anderson.”

Alice laughed and blushed, but she was not vexed.  She liked to have him understand her.  “Well, now,” she said, as if that were the next thing, “I’m going to cross here at once and walk up the other pavement, and you must go back through the Garden; or else I shall never get away from you.”