"No," he said at last, straightening himself. "I cawn't get you to
Paddington—or anyw'ere else for the matter o' that!"
He spoke with a stubborn unconcern that was simply maddening.
"Then get me another taxi—quick!" said Nan.
"W'ere from?"—contemptuously. "There ain't no taxi-rank 'ere in 'Yde
Park."
Nan looked hopelessly round. Cars and taxis, some with luggage and some without, went speeding past her, but never a single one that was empty.
"Oh"—she turned desperately to her driver—"can't you do anything?
Run down and see if you can hail one for me. I'll stay by the taxi."
He shook his bead.
"Callin' taxis for people ain't my job," he remarked negligently. "I'm a driver, I am."
Nan, driven by the extreme urgency of her need, stepped out into the middle of the road and excitedly hailed the next taxicab that passed her carrying luggage. The occupant, a woman, her attention attracted by Nan's waving arm, leaned out from the window and called to her driver to stop. Nan ran forward.
"Oh, are you by any chance going to Paddington?" she asked eagerly.
"My taxi's broken down and I'm afraid I'll miss my train."