They walked down the road to the Concordia three abreast.

As they walked three abreast the wife caught his breath across the wind.

In a moment the pair were abreast of him again, dissolved in laughter now⁠—not such strident mirth as he would have expected in the North from actresses in this familiar comedy, but a soft, low rippling, like the overflow from some subtle joke, into which he had inadvertently blundered.