“Well, I’m not wise in city ways but I know that I can find a safe shelter somewhere. I’m going to ask that policeman, yonder, to find us a place.”
“That’s sensible, and I’ll talk with him myself. If he isn’t on duty likely he’ll take you to my friend’s himself. By the way, who was that you ran after and called to so loud? You shouldn’t do that in a big, strange station, you know.”
“I suppose not; yet I needed him so, and it was Adrian, who’s been at my own home all summer. If he’d heard, or seen me, he would have taken all the care, because this is where he’s always lived. The same familiar spot that—that dear Peace Island is to Joe and me,” she said, with a catch in her voice and laying her hand affectionately upon his sleeve.
“Adrian? A Mr. Adrian?”
“Why, no. He is a Wadislaw. His father’s name is Malachi Wadislaw, and my business here is with him.”
“Wadislaw, the banker? Why then, of course, it’s all right. Officer, please call a cab and take them to Number — West Twenty-fifth Street. That’s my friend’s; and say I sent them.”