Mr. Bromley rushed forward and seized Cornelia’s arm. “Miss Cromwell!”
She looked up, smiling absently. “Do you think there was any danger?” she asked. “I didn’t notice.”
“Good gracious!” he cried. “Don’t you know you can’t cross streets anywhere, these days, without looking to see what’s coming? What was the matter with you?”
“The matter?” she repeated, vaguely, as she began to walk onward with him. “Why, nothing.”
“I mean: What on earth were you thinking of to step right in front of a——”
“Oh, that? Yes,” she said, gently. “I see what you mean now, Mr. Bromley. I was thinking about life.”
“You were, indeed?”
“And books,” she added.
“Well, I wouldn’t!” he said, for he had long since forgotten his advice to her in the matter. “If I were you, I’d put my mind more upon street crossings, especially during pedestrian excursions.”
She accepted the reproof meekly, not replying, and for some moments walked beside him in silence. Then she said gravely: “I believe I haven’t thanked you for saving my life.”