"Couldn't we walk?" she asked.
"No, no, of course we couldn't. It's across the river."
"I feel sort of queer, somehow," said Mildred, faintly.
The North River was choppy from darting tugs and gliding barges as the ferry-boat bore the elopers toward the Jersey side. Leaning on the rail, Chester gazed morosely at the retreating metropolitan sky-line. Mildred plucked at his coat sleeve. He turned and looked at her. Her face was pale. "Oh, Chester, I want to go back. I want to go home," she said, tearfully.
"Why, Mildred," exclaimed Chester, and for the first time there was impatience in his voice, "what's the matter?"
"I'm going to be sick," she said.
She was.
§4
"I hate you, Chester Jessup. I hate, hate, HATE you. And I'm going to go back," she said, tearfully.
The elopers had never reached Hoboken. Mildred refused to leave the ferry-boat and Chester did not urge her. It bore them back to the New York side. Their flight to Gretna Green was a failure.