“To the Battery——”
“Mr. Gal—Phil!” cried Jane.
“I beg pardon, sir,” said Dawson.
Gallatin concealed his delight with difficulty.
“We’ve come too far, Dawson,” he said. “Miss Loring lives in Seventieth Street.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” came a voice.
Gallatin shut the door and the vehicle turned.
Jane sat very straight in her corner and her fingers were rearranging her disordered hair.
“Oh, Phil,—I’m shamed. How could I have let him go past——”