Volume VIII Part 17 (2/2)
”I have a cab outside. Give me the address.”
”I refuse to permit you to go alone.”
”You have absolutely nothing to say in regard to where I shall or shall not go.”
”In this one instance. I shall withhold the address.”
How her eyes blazed!
”Oh, it is easily to be seen that you do not trust me.” I was utterly discouraged.
”I did not imply that,” with the least bit of softening. ”Certainly I would trust you. But ...”
”Well?”--as laughingly as I could.
”I must be the one to take out that letter,”--decidedly.
”I offer to bring you the hat untouched,” I replied.
”I insist on going.”
”Very well; we shall go together; under no other circ.u.mstances. This is a common courtesy that I would show to a perfect stranger.”
I put on my hat, took up the Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed her gravely into the main hallway. We did not speak on the way down to the street. We entered the cab in silence, and went rumbling off southwest.
When the monotony became positively unbearable I spoke.
”I regret to force myself upon you.”
No reply.
”It must be a very important letter.”
”To no one but myself,”--with extreme frigidity.
”His father ought to wring his neck,”--thinking of Toddy-One-Boy.
”Sir, he is my brother!”
”I beg your pardon.” It seemed that I wasn't getting on very well.
We b.u.mped across the Broadway tracks. Once or twice our shoulders touched, and the thrill I experienced was as painful as it was rapturous. What was in a letter that she should go to this extreme to recall it? A heat-flash of jealousy went over me. She had written to some other fellow; for there always is some other fellow, hang him!...
And then a grand idea came into my erstwhile stupid head. Here she was, alone with me in a cab. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I could force her to listen to my explanation.
”I received your note,” I began. ”It was cruel and without justice.”
Her chin went up a degree.
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