“Wygatt Road!” Ross told the taxi driver, and got into the cab.
“Hold on a minute!” said Donnelly. “I’m going that way, too. I’ll share the cab with you.”
“Look here!” cried Ross.
“Well?” said Donnelly. “I’m looking.”
The unhappy young man did not know what to say. He felt that it would be extremely imprudent to antagonize the man.
“All right,” he said, at last, and Donnelly got in beside him.
The cab set off, splashing through the melted snow—going back again to that infernal garage. Suppose Donnelly hung about all day?
“Where do you want to get out?” he demanded.
“To tell you the truth,” said Donnelly, “I was waiting for you.”
“Waiting! But—”