Page:The Blind Bow-Boy (IA blindbowboy00vanv).pdf/51

 The situation inspired Harold with a hitherto unrealized degree of initiative.

You are going my way. . . Can I take you home? he leaned out of the cab, not without embarrassment, to call to her.

I don't know you, sir.

This rejoinder was made quite simply, without rudeness, but it caused Harold to turn red to the full height of his forehead.

I beg your pardon. I thought. ..

His confusion seemed to reassure her.

You are very good, she said, as she stepped into his cab. I look such a fright crying, I hate to be seen on the street. . . I've been arrested. She sobbed aloud now. . . Father will never forgive me.

But you weren't driving the car.

The chauffeur, as he turned into Fifth Avenue, asked for orders, and Harold gave Alice's address.

You know where I live! she exclaimed with amazement.

I heard you tell the policeman.

You know my name, too?

Yes. . . . Mine is Harold Prewett.

You see, my father says, she resumed, without seeming to have heard him, that a lady will avoid accidents.

It wasn't your fault. He would be a brute to scold you.

I have disobeyed him. He has told me always