“No, thank you.”
“I’m going to the theatre afterwards—a matinée. I’ve only got one ticket, but you can buy one at the door.”
“Thank you; I would rather walk about the streets this afternoon.”
Randolph lounged into the bar-room, ordered his drink, then lounged out again.
He nodded carelessly to Gilbert as he went out.
“See you by and by,” he said.
Gilbert bowed.
“It doesn’t strike me I shall like that boy,” he said to himself. “I wonder if his father knows about his drinking.”
Gilbert amused himself for a little while longer watching those who entered and departed from the great hotel. Then he went out into the street, and proceeded down Broadway. He made slow progress, for there was much to interest a stranger like himself in the busy life of the street. At length it occurred to him that he would go to Central Park, of which he had heard a great deal. By this time he had strayed to Sixth Avenue and Fourteenth Street.
At the same time with Gilbert a young girl of thirteen entered the car, and, as chance would have it, she and our hero were seated side by side.