"I—I don't know," she stammered; "my shoe seems to be tied to yours."
"Tied!" he cried, bending down in a panic, "wasn't that my shoe-lace?" His golf-bag fell, he seized it and set it against the seat between them. "Hold it a moment," he groaned. "I tied your shoe-lace to mine!"
"You tied it!" she repeated, furiously.
"I saw a shoe-lace—I thought it was mine—I tied it fast—in a d-d-double knot——"
"Untie it at once!" she said, crimson to the roots of her hair.
"Great Heavens, madam! I didn't mean to do it! I'll fix it in a moment——"
"Don't," she whispered, fiercely; "the people opposite are looking at us! Do you wish to hold us both up to ridicule?" He straightened up, thoroughly flurried.
"But—this is my station—" he began.
"It is mine, too. I'd rather sit here all night than have those people see you untie your shoe from mine! How—how could you——"