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　　Promptly at the beginning of twilight, came again to that quiet corner of that quiet, small park the girl in gray. She sat upon a bench and read a book, for there was yet to come a half hour in which print could be accomplished.

　　To repeat: Her dress was gray, and plain enough to mask its impeccancy of style and fit. A large meshed veil imprisoned her turban hat and a face that shone through it with a calm and unconscious beauty. She had come there at the same hour on the day previous, and on the day before that; and there was one who knew it.

　　The young man who knew it hovered near, relying upon burnt sacrifices to the great joss, Luck. His piety was rewarded, for, in turning a page, her book slipped from her fingers and bounded from the bench a full yard away.

　　The young man pounced upon it with instant avidity, returning it to its owner with that air that seems to flourish in parks and public places - a compound of gallantry and hope, tempered with respect for the policeman on the beat. In a pleasant voice, be risked an inconsequent remark upon the weather that introductory topic responsible for so much of the world's unhappiness-and stood poised for a moment, awaiting his fate.

　　The girl looked him over leisurely; at his ordinary, neat dress and his features distinguished by nothing particular in the way of expression.

　　"You may sit down, if you like," she said, in a full, deliberate contralto. "Really, I would like to have you do so. The light is too bad for reading. I would prefer to talk."

　　The vassal of Luck slid upon the seat by her side with complaisance.

　　"Do you know," be said, speaking the formula with which park chairmen open their meetings, "that you are quite the stunningest girl I have seen in a long time? I had my eye on you yesterday. Didn't know somebody was bowled over by those pretty lamps of yours, did you, honeysuckle?"

　　"Whoever you are," said the girl, in icy tones, "you must remember that I am a lady. I will excuse the remark you have just made because the mistake was, doubtless, not an unnatural one in your circle. I asked you to sit down; if the invitation must constitute me your honeysuckle, consider it withdrawn."

　　"I earnestly beg your pardon," pleaded the young ran. His expression of satisfaction had changed to one of penitence and humility. It was my fault, you know -I mean, there are girls in parks, you know - that is, of course, you don't know, but -- "

　　"Abandon the subject, if you please. Of course, I know. Now, tell me about these people passingand crowding, each way, along these paths. Where are they going? Why do they hurry so? Are they happy?"

　　The young man had promptly abandoned his air of coquetry. His cue was now for a waiting part; he could not guess the role be would be expected to play.

　　"It is interesting to watch them," he replied, postulating her mood. "It is the wonderful drama of life. Some are going to supper and some to -- er --other places. One wonders what their histories are."

　　"I do not," said the girl; "I am not so inquisitive. I come here to sit because here, only, can I be tear the great, common, throbbing heart of humanity. My part in life is cast where its beats are never felt. Can you surmise why I spoke to you, Mr. -- ?"

　　"Parkenstacker," supplied the young man. Then be looked eager and hopeful.

　　"No," said the girl, holding up a slender finger, and smiling slightly. "You would recognize it immediately. It is impossible to keep one's name out of print. Or even one's portrait. This veil and this hat of my maid furnish me with an incognito. You should have seen the chauffeur stare at it when he thought I did not see. Candidly, there are five or six names that belong in the holy of holies, and mine, by the accident of birth, is one of them. I spoke to you, Mr. Stackenpot -- "

　　"Parkenstacker," corrected the young man, modestly.

　　" -- Mr. Parkenstacker, because I wanted to talk, for once, with a natural man -- one unspoiled by the despicable gloss of wealth and supposed social superiority. Oh! you do not know how weary I am of it -- money, money, money! And of the men who surround me, dancing like little marionettes all cut by the same pattern. I am sick of pleasure, of jewels, of travel, of society, of luxuries of all kinds."

　　"I always had an idea," ventured the young man, hesitatingly, "that money must be a pretty good

　　thing."

　　"A competence is to be desired. But when you leave so many millions that -- !" She concluded the sentence with a gesture of despair. "It is the monotony of it" she continued, "that palls. Drives, dinners, theatres, balls, suppers, with the gilding of superfluous wealth over it all. Sometimes the very tinkle of the ice in my champagne glass nearly drives

　　me mad."

　　Mr. Parkenstacker looked ingenuously interested.

　　"I have always liked," he said, "to read and hear about the ways of wealthy and fashionable folks. I suppose I am a bit of a snob. But I like to have my information accurate. Now, I had formed the opinion that champagne is cooled in the bottle and not by placing ice in the glass."

　　The girl gave a musical laugh of genuine amusement.

　　"You should know," she explained, in an indulgent tone, "that we of the non-useful class depend for our amusement upon departure from precedent. Just now it is a fad to put ice in champagne. The idea was originated by a visiting Prince of Tartary while dining at the Waldorf. It will soon give way to some other whim. Just as at a dinner party this week on Madison Avenue a green kid glove was laid by the plate of each guest to be put on and used while eating olives."

　　"I see," admitted the young man, humbly.

　　"These special diversions of the inner circle do not become familiar to the common public."

　　"Sometimes," continued the girl, acknowledging his confession of error by a slight bow, "I have thought that if I ever should love a man it would be one of lowly station. One who is a worker and not a drone. But, doubtless, the claims of caste and wealth will prove stronger than my inclination. Just now I am besieged by two. One is a Grand Duke of a German principality. I think he has, or has bad, a wife, somewhere, driven mad by his intemperance and cruelty. The other is an English Marquis, so cold and mercenary that I even prefer the diabolism of the Duke. What is it that impels me to tell you these things, Mr. Packenstacker?

　　"Parkenstacker," breathed the young man. "Indeed, you cannot know how much I appreciate your confidences."

　　The girl contemplated him with the calm, impersonal regard that befitted the difference in their stations.

　　"What is your line of business, Mr. Parkenstacker?" she asked.

　　"A very humble one. But I hope to rise in the world. Were you really in earnest when you said that you could love a man of lowly position?"

　　"Indeed I was. But I said 'might.' There is the Grand Duke and the Marquis, you know. Yes; no

　　calling could be too humble were the man what I would wish him to be."

　　"I work," declared Mr. Parkenstacker, "in a restaurant."

　　The girl shrank slightly.

　　"Not as a waiter?" she said, a little imploringly. "Labor is noble, but personal attendance, you know -- valets and -- "

　　"I am not a waiter. I am cashier in" -- on the street they faced that bounded the opposite side of the park was the brilliant electric sign "RESTAURANT" -- "I am cashier in that restaurant you am there."

　　The girl consulted a tiny watch set in a bracelet of rich design upon her left wrist, and rose, hurriedly. She thrust her book into a glittering reticule suspended from her waist, for which, however, the book was too large.

　　"Why are you not at work?" she asked.

　　"I am on the night turn," said the young man; it is yet an hour before my period begins. May I not hope to see you again?"

　　"I do not know. Perhaps - but the whim may not seize me again. I must go quickly now. There is a dinner, and a box at the play -- and, oh! The same old round. Perhaps you noticed an automobile at the upper corner of the park as you came. One with a white body

　　"And red running gear?" asked the young man, knitting his brows reflectively.

　　"Yes. I always come in that. Pierre waits for me there. He supposes me to be shopping in the department store across the square. Conceive of the bondage of the life wherein we must deceive even our chauffeurs. Good-night."

　　"But it is dark now," said Mr. Parkenstacker, "and the park is full of rude men. May I not walk -- "

　　"If you have the slightest regard for my wishes," said the girl, firmly, "you will remain at this bench for ten minutes after I have left. I do not mean to accuse you, but you are probably aware that autos generally bear the monogram of their owner. Again, good-night"

　　Swift and stately she moved away through the dusk. The young man watched her graceful form

　　as she reached the pavement at the park's edge, and turned up along it toward the corner where stood the automobile. Then he treacherously and unhesitatingly began to dodge and skim among the park trees and shrubbery in a course parallel to her route, keeping her well in sight.

　　When she reached the corner she turned her head to glance at the motor car, and then passed it, con turning on across the street. Sheltered behind a convenient standing cab, the young man followed her movements closely with his eyes. Passing down the sidewalk of the street opposite the park, she entered the restaurant with the blazing sign. The place was one of those frankly glaring establishments, all white, paint and glass, where one may dine cheaply and

　　conspicuously. The girl penetrated the restaurant to some retreat at its rear, whence she quickly emerged without her bat and veil.

　　The cashier's desk was well to the front. A red-head girl an the stool climbed down, glancing pointedly at the clock as she did so. The girl in gray mounted in her place.

　　The young man thrust his hands into his pockets and walked slowly back along the sidewalk. At the corner his foot struck a small, paper-covered volume lying there, sending it sliding to the edge of the turf. By its picturesque cover he recognized it as the book the girl had been reading. He picked it up carelessly, and saw that its title was "New Arabian Nights," the author being of the name of Stevenson. He dropped it again upon the grass, and lounged, irresolute, for a minute. Then he stepped into the automobile, reclined upon the cushions, and said two words to the chauffeur:

　　"Club, Henri.

　　夜幕初降，这位身穿灰色衣服的女子又来到那宁静的小公园里的那个宁静的角落。坐在长椅上看书。她的衣服灰色朴素，她的脸蛋非常漂亮。前一天和再前一天，她都在同一时间来到这里。有一个年轻人知道这件事。

　　这个年轻人走近前来。就在这一刹那间，她的书滑出了她的手指，落在地上。那年轻人捡起来，有礼貌地将书还给那女孩子，说了几句关于天气的话，然后就站在那里等着。

　　那女孩子看看他朴素的衣服和平凡的脸。

　　“如果你愿意的话，可以坐下，”她用女低音说，“光线太差了，不宜看书。 我倒愿意谈谈。 ”

　　“你知不知道，”他说，“你是我见到过的最漂亮的女孩子。 我昨天就看见你了。”

　　“不管你是谁，”那女孩子用一种冷冰冰的语气说，“你必须记住我是一个有身份的女人。”

　　“请原谅，”这个年轻人说，“这是我的不是，你知道———我的意思是说在公园里有些女孩子，你知道———当然你不会知道，但是……”

　　“好啦，别说啦，我当然明白。现在来谈谈这条路上的人吧。他们都去向何方？ 他们为什么如此匆忙？ 他们快活吗？ ”年轻人没有回答，那年轻人不明白他应该扮演个什么样的角色。

　　“我跑来坐在这儿，是因为只有在这里我才可以接近普通群众。我跟人说话是因为我要跟一个未受金钱玷污的人说话。哦，你不知道我多么讨厌它———钱，钱，钱！还有那些包围我的男人。我讨厌享受，讨厌珠宝，讨厌旅行。”

　　“我一直认为，”年轻人说，“金钱一定是一样很好的东西。”

　　“当你拥有几百万几千万的时候，兜风、宴会、戏院、舞会、晚餐！ 我讨厌这一切。 ”这位年轻姑娘说。

　　小伙子颇有兴趣地看着她。 “我一直喜欢，”他说，“读到或是听到有关富人生活的情况。而且我一向认为香槟酒是连瓶冰镇，而不是把冰搁杯里的。 ”

　　“哦……，是的，我们闲着无聊有时就靠标新立异来找消遣。目前流行的花样是把冰块搁在香槟酒里。”女孩子岔开话题，“有时候，我想，如果我有朝一日爱上一个人，我要爱一个普通的人。———你的职业是什么？ ”

　　“很低微，但是我希望出人头地。 当你说你能够爱一个普通人，是真的吗？”

　　“当然。”她说。

　　“我在一家餐厅工作。 ”他说。 女孩子缩了回来。

　　“不是当跑堂吧？ ”女子略微带着央求的口气说。

　　“我在那家餐厅里当出纳员，也就是那家你现在看得到的有着耀眼的电灯招牌的餐厅。”

　　女子看看表，站了起来，“你怎么不上班呢？”她问。

　　“我上夜班，”小伙子说，“我得一个钟头之后才开始工作，我还有希望再见到你吗？”

　　“我不知道，也许。 我必须快走。 哦，今晚还有一个宴会和一个音乐会呢。 也许你来的时候注意到一辆停在公园拐角上的白色汽车吧？ ”

　　“红色轮子的那辆吗？”年轻人说。

　　“哦？……对，我总是坐那辆车来。司机在那里等我，晚安。”

　　“现在天色挺暗了，”年轻人说，“公园里人杂。 我能陪你走到汽车那边吗？”

　　“假如你尊重我的愿望，你得在我起身后再在这条凳子上坐１０分钟。”她去了。

　　年轻人看着她那优雅的身姿，然后站起来，悄悄跟着她。

　　当她走到公园门口时，她转过头来看看那辆汽车，在它边上走过，穿过喧闹的大街，走进那有着耀眼的电灯招牌的餐厅。一位红发女郎离开出纳员的桌子，这位穿灰色衣服的女子接替了她。

　　年轻人把手插进口袋里，慢慢地沿大街走去。迟疑地逗留了片刻，然后他跨进那辆等着的汽车，舒舒服服地往座垫上一靠，吩咐司机说：“亨利，俱乐部。”