“Yes, Miss, I’ll do my best.”
“There ain’t no use,” the man told her a few minutes later. “I mean there ain’t no telling when I can get you a taxi; but here’s a hansom cab, don’t you think now, you’d better take this?”
“What? A hansom? Oh, I never do.”
“I know, Ma’am, but it’s a chance, and you might have to wait a lot longer——”
“Oh, all right, perhaps it would be the best thing to do.”
“And you’re lucky to get me,” observed the driver from his high perch, “there ain’t many vacant cabs tonight.”
The starter put Helen into the little vehicle, tucked the robe about her, and closed the doors, with a feeling of relief at seeing the young lady en route for home. Then, before he had the glass lowered he asked for the address.
“Oh, yes,” and Helen opened her bag. “Wait a minute.”
But a hasty and fluttering search failed to produce the written paper.
“I had it,” she murmured; “I must have jerked it out with my programme. Won’t you look around on the pavement, please?”