"I am not going to let you go alone, anyway.

We will take the car if you say so, but what do you say to walking?
It's a lovely night." It actually flashed through Ellen's mind--to such small issues of finance had she been accustomed--that the young man might insist upon paying her car-fare if he went with her on the car.
"I would like to walk, but I am sorry to put you to so much trouble," she said, a little awkwardly.
"Oh, I like to walk," returned Robert.

"I don't walk half enough," and they went together down the lighted street.

Suddenly to Ellen there came a vivid remembrance, so vivid that it seemed almost like actual repetition of the time when she, a little child, maddened by the sudden awakening of the depths of her nature, had come down this same street.

She saw that same brilliant market-window where she had stopped and stared, to the momentary forgetfulness of her troubles in the spectacular display of that which was entirely outside them.
Curiously enough, Robert drew her to a full stop that night before the same window.