“But we mustn't lose any time, for, as he said, the performance will soon be over.”
“Oh, 'Tell' is a long opera and Guille will have an encore for the aria in the last act. That will give us a few minutes more.”
III
A Telegraphic Revelation
A boy walking down Girard Avenue, as Appleton got into the cab, had been whistling the tune of “They're After Me,”—a thing that was new to the variety stage last fall, but is dead this summer. The air, whistled by the boy, clung to Appleton's sense, and he unconsciously hummed it to himself as his cab went on its grinding way over the stones.
The cabman was considerate of his horse, and he coolly ignored Appleton's occasional shouts of, “Get along there, won't you?”
It was, therefore, not impossible for the bicyclists to keep in sight of the coupé.
“All this concern about a man you say you don't care for,” said Haslam to Amy, as the bicycle turned up Broad Street. “It's unprecedented.”
“It's only humanity.”
“You didn't bother about following me around like this when you threw me over.”