“Going to Newark! Yes, but you’re going in Hendricks’ car—that doesn’t require a ticket, does it?”
“No—but I—I might want to give the chauffeur something when I get out—”
“Nonsense! Not Hendricks’ chauffeur. That’s all right when you’re with formal friends or Comparative strangers—but it would be ridiculous to tip Hendricks’ Gus!”
Embury swung into the light topcoat held by the faithful Ferdinand.
“But, dear,” and Eunice rose, and stood by her husband, “I do want a little money,” she fingered nervously the breakfast napkin she was still holding.
“What for?” was the repeated inquiry.
“Oh, you see—I might want to do a little shopping in Newark.”
“Shop in Newark! That’s a good one! Why, girlie, you never want to shop outside of little old New York, and you know it. Shop in Newark!”
Embury laughed at the very idea.
“But—I might see something in a window that’s just what I want.”