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 of her than he evidently had formed from Clara's report, and he had decided upon the definite investment of the difference between the cost of half a taxi for four and a taxi for two; at this moment, plainly he was wondering whether he was "stuck" while she kept him talking about the trombone and his idea of dance music. He had no real enthusiasm for it, so the talk died down and he gazed out of his window, while before them the meter audibly clicked and clicked as they dashed along.

"I ought to pay for the cab," Marjorie thought to herself, guiltily, "or give him what he expected for it. Probably it's only his arm around me; I'm going to let him put it around me, anyway, when we dance. For of course we're going to dance."

"Nice spring night," said Mr. Saltro, almost sarcastically, and slurring "spring" to express emotional expectation which one might naturally hold for such a season.

"Yes, it's the first time this year I've really felt it's spring," Marjorie rejoined, partly from the reaction to the reckless in her, partly from her own amazement at the feeling which was hers to-night. Strange how at home, after her discovery of the fact of Clearedge Street, spring itself, though physically arrived long days ago, had been stifled within her, and yet now spring could seize her when she herself was starting off from Clearedge Street.

"Some season, spring!" said Mr. Saltro, with marked diminution of his sarcasm and sitting nearer her. He held no reference, obviously, to budding trees and blossoming flowers, or even to the softness of the evening air coming in the open window of the taxicab door; in so far as he referred at all, it was to the