She loosed her hold and he drew the door open, but no one entered and they shot on up again.
"How far do you go?" she asked.
"To the eighth."
"Well, stop here!" They were still alone, moving on above the sixth floor. "Stop here, Tom, between these floors, please, please!"
Her voice was full of emotion and he turned his wheel and stopped at her bidding. He had seen her when she entered and his surprise was not great like hers. That she was a beautiful young woman, taking her place in the white world, was what he had expected. He felt pride in her pretty dress and graceful carriage; but he recognized her aloofness, her position with the dominant race. Now, however, as she grasped his arm and greeted him with the old, bright, comradely look, for a moment he felt himself her boy again.
"Why aren't you at school?" she demanded.
He was recalled to his position by repeated clicks of his indicator. "You know, Sister," the name slipped out unawares, "I can't explain a thing like that between two floo's with the bells ringing for me above and below."
"Then come and explain it to me to-night. You must, Tom. I'll do something desperate if you don't come."
Her face was aglow with excitement, her eyes shone and she gripped her silk-gloved hands together.
Doubtful whether he should obey her, he still could not resist her pleading. "All right, I'll come," he promised and sprang the car upward.