"I must be the one to take out that letter,"—decidedly.
"I offer to bring you the hat untouched," I replied.
"I insist on going."
"Very well; we shall go together; under no other circumstances. This is a common courtesy that I would show to a perfect stranger."
I put on my hat, took up the Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed her gravely into the main hallway. We did not speak on the way down to the street. We entered the cab in silence, and went rumbling off southwest. When the monotony became positively unbearable I spoke.
"I regret to force myself upon you."
No reply.
"It must be a very important letter."
"To no one but myself,"—with extreme frigidity.
"His father ought to wring his neck,"—thinking of Toddy-One-Boy.