She slipped the letter unconsciously into the bosom of her dress, and sat
looking out of the window. It promised to be a glorious day, and London
was stifling and gritty. Surely no one but an unwholesome-minded prude
could jib at a walk across a park. Mrs. Phillips would be delighted to
hear that she had gone. For the matter of that, she would tell her--when
next they met.
Phillips must have seen her getting off the bus, for he came forward at
once from the other side of the gate, his face radiant with boyish
delight. A young man and woman, entering the park at the same time,
looked at them and smiled sympathetically.
Joan had no idea the park contained such pleasant by-ways. But for an
occasional perambulator they might have been in the heart of the country.
The fallow deer stole near to them with noiseless feet, regarding them
out of their large gentle eyes with looks of comradeship. They paused
and listened while a missal thrush from a branch close to them poured out
his song of hope and courage. From quite a long way off they could still
hear his clear voice singing, telling to the young and brave his gallant
message.
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