A policeman strolled past, striking terror to a guilty heart; a gentleman of evidently unbroken leisure regarded her with a benevolent eye completely ringed by red.

Crowds were surging in and out of the newspaper offices and the Municipal Building and the post office, but stare where she would, she couldn't find Pete.
She had ten minutes to think of horrors before she saw him rushing across the park toward her, and she had the idea of saying to him those words which he himself had selected as typically wifely, "Not that I mind at all, but I was afraid I must have misunderstood you." But she did not get very far in her mild little joke, for it was evident at once that something had happened.
"My dear love," he said, "it's no go.

We can't sail, we can't be married.
I think I'm out of a job." As they stood there, her pretty clothes, the bright sun shining on her golden hair and dark furs and polished shoes, her beauty, but, above all, their complete absorption in each other, made them conspicuous.

They were utterly oblivious.
Pete told her exactly what had happened.

Some months before he had been sent to make a report on a coal property in Pennsylvania.