Part 4

"Plenty," said his comrade; adding, after a moment's weary deliberation, "She's his tootsy-wootsy sure. B. and G."

The two young people, who had caught the boat at the last second, stood together, muffled to the eyes, breathing rapidly. She was casting tragic glances astern, where, somewhere behind the smother of snow, New York city lay; he, certain at last of his train, stood beside her, attempting to collect his thoughts and arrange them in some sort of logical sequence.

But the harder he thought, the more illogical the entire episode appeared. How on earth had he ever come to enter a stranger's cab and drive with a stranger half a mile before either discovered the situation? And what blind luck had sent the cab to the destination he also was bound for--and not a second to spare, either?

He looked at her furtively; she stood by the rail, her fur coat white with snow.

"The poor little thing!" he thought. And he said: "You need not worry about your section, you know. I have my sister's ticket for you."

After a moment's gloomy retrospection he added: "When your brother arrives to knock my head off I'm going to let him do it."

She made no comment.

"I don't suppose," he said, "that you ever could pardon what I have done."

"No," she said, "I never could."

A brief interval passed, disturbed by the hooting of a siren.

"If you had stopped the cab when I asked you to--" she began.

"If I had," he said, "neither you nor I could have caught this train."

"If you had not entered my cab, I should have been here at this moment with my brother," she said. "Now I am here with you--penniless!"

He looked at her miserably, but she was relentless.

"It is the cold selfishness of the incident that shocks me," she said; "it is not the blunder that offended me--" She stopped short to give him a chance to defend himself; but he did not. "And now," she added, "you have reduced me to the necessity of--borrowing money--"

"Only a ticket," he muttered.

But she was not appeased, and her silence was no solace to him.

After a few minutes he said: "It's horribly cold out here; would you not care to go into the cabin?"

She shook her head, and her cheeks grew hot, for she had heard the observations of the ferrymen as the boat left. She would freeze in obscurity rather than face a lighted cabin full of people. She looked at the porter who was carrying their valises, and the dreadful idea seized her that he, too, thought them bride and groom.

Furious, half frightened, utterly wretched, she dared not even look at the man whose unheard-of stupidity had inflicted such humiliation upon her.

Tears were close to her eyes; she swallowed, set her head high, and turned her burning cheeks to the pelting snow.

Oh, he should rue it some day! When, how, where, she did not trouble to think; but he should rue it, and his punishment should leave a memory ineffaceable. Pondering on his future tribulation, sternly immersed in visions of justice, his voice startled her:

"The boat is in. Please keep close to me."

Bump! creak--cre--ak! bump! Then came the clank of wheel and chain, and the crowded cabin, and pressing throngs which crushed her close to his shoulder; and, "Please take my arm," he said; "I can protect you better so."

A long, covered way, swarming with people, a glimpse of a street and whirling snowflakes, an iron fence pierced by gates where gilt-and-blue officials stood, saying, monotonously: "Tickets! Please show your tickets. This way for the Palmetto Special. The Eden Limited on track number three."

"Would you mind holding my umbrella a moment?" he asked.

She took it.

He produced the two tickets and they passed the gate, following a porter who carried their luggage.