Even when he, too, got out at Wyngate, Lexy was not specially interested. It was only a little after five o’clock, but it was dark already on that rainy afternoon, and the only thing that interested her just then was the sight of a solitary taxi drawn up beside the platform. Bag in hand, she hurried toward it, but the stranger got there before her. When she arrived, he was speaking to the driver.
There was no other taxi or vehicle of any sort in sight, no other lights were visible except those of the station. It was a strange and unknown world upon which she looked in the rainy dusk, and she felt a justifiable annoyance with the ungallant stranger. He jumped into the cab and slammed the door.
“Driver!” cried Lexy. “Will you please come back for me?”
But before the driver could answer, the door of the cab opened, and the stranger sprang out.
“I beg your pardon!” he said, standing hat in hand before Lexy. “I’m most awfully sorry! Give you my word I didn’t notice. I should have noticed, of course. Absent-minded sort of beggar, you know! Please take the cab, won’t you? I don’t in the least mind waiting. Please take it! Allow me!”
He tried to take her bag. His manner was not at all haughty. On the contrary, it was a very agreeable manner, and the impulsive Lexy liked him.
“Why can’t we both go?” said she.
“Oh, no!” he protested. “Please take the cab! Give you my word I don’t mind waiting.”
“It’s a dismal place to wait in,” said Lexy. “We can both go, just as well as not.”
The driver approved of Lexy’s idea. It saved him trouble.