"Don't say that!" she cried, hotly.
"Yes, I will! You are! And I dodged and tumbled about like a headless chicken and ran into the wrong gate. I wish I'd climbed out on the third rail! And then, when I hoped I'd never see you again, I found myself beside you, and—Good Heavens! I lost no time in beginning my capers again and doing the most abandoned deed a man ever accomplished on earth!"
She appeared to be absorbed in contemplation of a breakfast-food advertisement; her color was still high; at times she worried her under lip with her white teeth, but her breath rose and fell under the fluffy bosom of her gown with more regularity, and the two bright tears in her eyes had dried unshed. Wrath may have dried them.
"I wish it were possible," he said very humbly, "for you to see the humour——"
"Humour!" she repeated, menacingly.
"No—I didn't mean that, I meant the—the——"
"You did! You meant the humour of the situation. I will answer you. I do not see the humour of it!"
"You are quite right," he admitted, looking furtively at the edge of her gown which concealed his right foot. "It is, as you say, simply ghastly to be tied together by the feet. Don't you suppose I could—without awakening suspicion—cut the—the laces with a penknife?"
"I beg you will attempt nothing whatever until this car is empty."