“Papa, I want you to take me to New York, by the first train.”
“Are you crazy, my darling?” cried Watts. “With riots and Anarchists all over the city.”
“I must go to New York,” said Leonore. “If you won’t take me, I’ll go with madame.”
“Not for a moment—” began Watts.
“Papa,” cried Leonore, “don’t you see it’s killing me? I can’t bear it—” and Leonore stopped.
“Yes, Watts, we must,” said Mrs. D’Alloi.
Two hours later they were all three rolling towards New York. It was a five hours’ ride, but Leonore sat the whole distance without speaking, or showing any consciousness of her surroundings. For every turn of those wheels seemed to fall into a rhythmic repetition of: “If I had only said ‘good-bye.’”
The train was late in arriving, and Watts tried to induce Leonore to go to a hotel for the night. She only said “No. Take me to him,” but it was in a voice which Watts could not disregard. So after a few questions at the terminal, which produced no satisfactory information, Watts told the cabman to drive to the City Hall Park.
They did not reach it, however, for at the corner of Centre Street and Chambers, there came a cry of “halt,” and the cab had to stop.
“You can’t pass this line,” said the sentry. “You must go round by Broadway.”