'They are pop—popularly known as the weaker sex. All a ter'ble mistake, young man. They're stronger. Li'l do you dream how stronger—how great—how more stronger they are. Curious about words. At times one commands them with ease. Other times they elude one. Words are more tricky—few suspect—but women allure us only to destroy us. Women....'
Before the cab rolled across the Rush Street Bridge on its long journey to the northward he was asleep.
7
It was half-past two in the morning when a hack drawn by weary horses on whose flanks the later glistened, drew up at the porte cochère of the old Dexter Smith place in Sunbury.
The cabman lumbered down and opened the door. A youth, nervously wide awake, leaped out. Then followed this brief conversation.
'Help me carry him up, please.'
'You'd better pay me first. Fifteen dollars!
'I'll do that afterward.'
'I'll take it now.'
'I tell you I'm going to get it——'