wilful, perhaps, with a firm, clean-cut chin and pleasant eyes.

"If I were a coward," he said, "I'd stop this cab and get out. I never faced anything that frightened me half as much as you do!"

She looked him straight in the eyes, one hand twisting at the knob.

"Don't you suppose that this mistake of mine is as humiliating and unwelcome to me as it is to you?" he said. "If you stop this cab it will ruin somebody's life. Not mine--if it were my own life, I wouldn't hesitate."

Her hand, still clasping the silver knob, suddenly fell limp.

"You say that you are in a hurry?" she asked, with dry lips.

"A desperate hurry," he replied.

"So am I," she said, bitterly; "and, thanks to your stupidity, I must make the journey without my brother!"

There was a silence, then she turned towards him again:

"Where do you imagine this cab is going?"

"It's going to Cortlandt Street--isn't it?" Suddenly the recollection came to him that it was her cab, and that he had only told the driver to drive fast.

The color left his face as he pressed it to the sleet-shot window. Fitful flickers of light, snow, darkness--that was all he could see.

He turned a haggard countenance on her; he was at her mercy. But there was nothing vindictive in her.

"I also am going to Cortlandt Street; you need not be alarmed," she said.

The color came back to his cheeks. "I suppose," he ventured, "that you are trying to catch the Eden Limited, as I am.""Yes," she said, coldly; "my brother—"
An expression of utter horror came into her face. "What on earth shall I do?" she cried; "my brother has my ticket and my purse!"

A lunge and a bounce sent them into momentary collision; a flare of light from a ferry lantern flashed in their faces; the cab stopped and a porter jerked open the door, crying: "Eden Limited? You'd better hurry, lady. They're closin' the gates now."

They sprang out 

 Prev. P 3/193 next