“You must come a little way,” she said as she slunk gracefully under the hood of the vehicle. I obeyed the command with some incoherent expressions of solicitude, leaving the driver to remind me that he did not know what he was to do with us.
“I am not going home,” said Mrs. Fentley. “Tell him Ammerlin’s. I have several errands, and as you evidently were only mooning at the Vulcan, I think you might go along.”
“And hold your hat.”
“And hold my hat. I was going to that district messenger office back there to send word over to Mrs. Linford that I couldn’t come, but I am going now, just to be obstinate. There, you may let me have my hat. Did you ever see anything so humiliating? I never expected to see it whole again. Why, it seemed to scud right under the feet of a horse. And to think that you should have seen the thing happen—”
“And sprang into the arena to rescue it.”
“Such a thing surely never happened to any one before. I hate wind. It is so vulgar.”
“Yes,” I said, “especially when it is in an ill-bred hurry. But really you have been in Chicago long enough to know that corner.”
“I know. But I was thinking of something else—”
“And hurrying a little yourself.”