The fresh wind off the sullen river served in some measure to
revive them, once the gates were opened and the car had taken a
place on the ferry-boat's forward extreme. Day was now full upon
the world; above a horizon belted with bright magenta, the
cloudless sky was soft turquoise and sapphire; and abruptly, while
the big unwieldy boat surged across the narrow ribbon of green
water, the sun shot up with a shout and turned to an evanescent
dream of fairy-land the gaunt, rock-ribbed profile of Manhattan
Island, bulking above them in tier upon tier of monstrous
buildings.
On the Manhattan side, in deference to the girl's low-spoken wish,
Maitland ran the machine up to Second Avenue, turned north, and
brought it to a stop by the curb, a little north of Thirty-fifth
Street.
"And now whither?" he inquired, hands somewhat impatiently ready
upon the driving and steering-gear.
The girl smiled faintly through her veil. "You have been most
kind," she told him in a tired voice. "Thank you--from my heart,
Mr. Anisty," and made a move as if to relieve him of his charge.
"Is that all?" he demanded blankly.
"Can I say more?"
"I ... I am to go no further with you?" Sick with disappointment,
he rose and dropped to the sidewalk--anticipating her affirmative
answer.
"If you would please me," said the girl, "you won't insist...."
"I don't," he returned ruefully. "But are you quite sure that
you're all right now?"
"Quite, thank you, dear Mr.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83