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He was going to a hotel on lower Broadway, and as my cab, on my way uptown, passed the door, I offered him a lift. He appeared to consider the advisability of this, and then, with much by-play of glancing over his shoulder, dived into the front seat and drew down the blinds.
Do not forget to mention me to your sister; and so, once more, adieu!" We parted Rupert to go towards Broadway, at a great pace, and I to lounge along, uncertain whither to proceed. I had sent Neb to inquire if the Wallingford were down, and understood she would leave the basin at sunrise.
Even Phelps's money had had no over-burdening attraction for her. The world at least that part of it which spends money on Broadway, had been open to her. Jack Daring had charmed her for a while hence the engagement. Of Shirley, I did not even know.
Then, with a heavy heart, he left the store where it had been such a satisfaction to him to work. On Broadway he met his room mate, Mike Flynn, in the uniform of a telegraph boy. "Where are you goin', Rodney?" asked Mike. "You ain't let off so early, are you?" "I am let off for good and all, Mike." "What's that?" "I am discharged." "What for?" asked Mike in amazement.
Indeed, when I left that night and before my oarsmen had got me a cable's length from the beach I heard the strumming resumed, very faintly, up in the dark behind the Residence; still tentatively, with, now and then through the flawless hush of the night, the guiding note of a woman's voice. A rehearsal? For what? For that almost mythical Broadway half around the bulge of the world?
"Fourth counter to the left." I went to the fourth counter to the left, and showed my sample to a salesman. He looked at it, and said: "You'll get this down on the first floor calico department." I turned on my heel, descended in the elevator, and went out on Broadway. I was thoroughly sick of red calico. But I determined to make one more trial.
To-morrow, Miriam, maybe when you get the berths " "State-rooms, mamma." "State-rooms, maybe Mr. Shapiro will will go mit." "Aw, mamma, he " "Will I! Well, I guess!" Across the table their eyes met and held. Even into the granite cañon of lower Broadway spring can find a way.
"Is it that you do not understand, or will not? I tell you that we must go." She shrugged her shoulders. "Where would you drag me to?" she asked. "We certainly can't go back to New York." He turned fiercely upon her. "Whose fault is it that we can't?" he demanded. "If it weren't for you and your confounded schemes, I could be walking down Broadway next week.
Bubbles with a tap of sleet in them exploded like little torpedoes on the sidewalks, curbs were rushing water, and Broadway was as black and oily-looking as a foundry. She tried to visualize it as she had seen it that first morning from her window at the Hudson Hotel, pink with sun.
Mr. Ingelow made her a slight bow. "Well, madame?" smiling carelessly. "Do you not know?" "I?" a broad stare. "Really, madame, I am at a loss How should I know?" "Did you not meet Mollie last night at the corner of Broadway and Fourteenth Street?" "Most certainly not." "Where were you at ten o'clock last evening?" Again Mr. Ingelow smiled. "Really, a raking cross-examination.
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