“Probably he didn't mean it. I'm not going to expect too much, anyway. I'm going to try and think of it as just a nice old place, and then I shan't feel bad when I see it. I'm not going to get my expectations up or be a bit excited.”
In proof of the sincerity of this determination, she sat bolt upright on the seat and looked straight before her. Her husband, however, was staring out of the window with all his might.
“Say!” he exclaimed, “this is a mighty nice street, anyhow.”
“Is it? Is it really?” For a person not excited, Mrs. Dott's breathing was short and her fingers, tightly clasped in her lap, were trembling.
“You bet it is! Hey! Why, we're slowin' up! We're stoppin'.”
The cab drew up at the curb and came to a standstill.
“Here you are,” said the driver. “This is Number 180.”
Daniel made no reply. Leaning from the window, he was staring with all his might. Serena's impatience got the better of her.
“Well? WELL?” she burst forth. “What does it look like? Do say something!”
The captain drew back into the carriage.