At this time in the evening it was pretty crowded and both had to stand up.
At Twenty-seventh Street a number left the train and those we follow with the rest.
Darrell observed Joe eagerly consult his watch.
“He’s late this evening and no doubt expects a scolding,” was his mental comment upon seeing the frown upon Joe’s usually good-natured face.
The giant walked along so fast that Eric could hardly keep his place behind him.
They approached the fatal number.
Truly Joe acted like a guilty wretch—he glanced up and down the street as if to make sure no acquaintance was passing.
Deception was a novelty to him—this was the first time Darrell had ever seen his friend acting in a mean role.
When they reached the steps Joe ascended them, took a key out of his pocket and deliberately opened the front door.
The detective was passing at the time, but his quick glance failed to reveal anything of interest.