"My, what a joy killer you are, Nan Sherwood," sighed Bess, as she rebelliously stuffed the bag of oranges into her already over-filled suitcase. "What are a few oranges more or less at a glorious time like this?"
Then the taxicab left the rough pavement and rolled along over the smooth asphalt. On all sides of them were trucks and autos, with here and there a horse-drawn vehicle. The noise was something awful.
"Goodness gracious, how different from the quietness at the Hall!" remarked Bess.
"And how different even from Tillbury," returned Nan.
"What a lot of foreigners here, Nan."
"I guess they come from the ships. The docks are all along here, so I've been told."
"I wouldn't want to come down here after dark and all alone."
"No, I'd not like that myself, Bess."
"Some of those men look like regular Italian brigands."