A tram-car dashed past them going down-hill, while another climbed laboriously up, both open to the breeze and full of people. The road began to be edged with fenced and hedged-in gardens, the houses standing afar and almost hidden by shrubs and greenery.
The girl spoke to the rickshaw-puller once more.
"The Inkos at the Point told you where to go. Do you know the house?"
He answered yes, but that it was still afar off—right at the top of the Berea.
She leaned back again content. It delighted her to be alone like this. It was quite an adventure, and an unexpected one. A malicious, mischievous smile flashed across her face as she sat thinking of the annoyance of the Inkos left behind at the docks. He had been furious when he found no closed carriage waiting for them.
There was one on the quay, but it was not theirs, and on approaching it and finding out his mistake, he stood stammering with anger. But she had flashed into a waiting rickshaw, knowing very well that he could not force her to get out and go back to the ship without making a scene.
Nothing would induce him to make a scene and attract the attention of people to himself. He had indeed told her in a low voice to get out and come back with him to wait for a carriage, but she merely made a mouth and looked appealingly at him, saying:
"Oh Luce! It will be so lovely in a rickshaw. I have never ridden in one like this yet."
"Well, ride to the devil," he had amiably responded, and turned his back on her. She had called out after him, in an entrancingly sweet voice:
"Yes, I know, Luce; but what is the address?"