Shortly after that the clock of St. Nicholas boomed three, and we departed.
CHAPTER IX—THE ELOPEMENT
Ruthita was anxious to accompany me to the station.
“I don’t want you,” I told her. “Women always make a fuss over partings.”
“But not sensible women,” she protested, smiling. “Let me come. There’s a dear.”
“You’ll try to kiss me. You’ll make a grab at my neck just as the train is moving. I shall feel embarrassed. You’ll probably slip off the platform and get both your legs cut off. A nice memory to take with me to London! No, thank you.”
“But I won’t try to kiss you, and I won’t grab at your neck. I’ll be most careful about my legs. And I don’t think it’s nice of you to mention them so callously, Dante.”
“I always tell folks,” put in my grandmother, “that, if there wer’n’t no partin’s, there’d be no meetin’s. It’s just come and go in this life. If he don’t want you, my dear, don’t bother ’im.”