“Why did you not help me?” said Louise.
“Look here, I want to make sure who you are. Where are you now?”
“Are you an unbeliever, Tony? C’est moi, Louise, qui te parle!”
“Then tell me where you are,” Tony persisted.
“Oh dear, Tony, I told you I was going back. I went back!”
“By Jove!” said Tony, “that settles it. Back to Paris?”
“I wish you were here,” sighed poor Louise. “The American is not nice—not nice as you, Tony.”
“American?” Tony muttered. “Oh yes. I say, what’s your address?”
The movement of the glass changed from a smooth glide to the “slap-bang” style abhorred by all of us.
“Look here, young feller! You get off the pavement. I don’t want you butting round here!” said the glass. “I’m Silas P. Warner——”