anquilles, mesdames.... Je suis un jeune homme
presse.... Mais modeste."--LABICHE.
At ten minutes before five in the evening the office doors of the
Florida and Key West Railway Company flew open, and a young man emerged
in a hurry.
Suit-case in one hand, umbrella in the other, he sped along the corridor
to the elevator-shaft, arriving in time to catch a glimpse of the
lighted roof of the cage sliding into depths below.
"Down!" he shouted; but the glimmering cage disappeared, descending
until darkness enveloped it.
Then the young man jammed his hat on his head, seized the suit-case and
umbrella, and galloped down the steps. The spiral marble staircase
echoed his clattering flight; scrub-women heard him coming and fled; he
leaped a pail of water and a mop; several old gentlemen flattened
themselves against the wall to give him room; and a blond young person
with pencils in her hair lisped "Gee!" as he whizzed past and plunged
through the storm-doors, which swung back, closing behind him with a
hollow thwack.
Outside in the darkness, gray with whirling snowflakes, he saw the wet
lamps of cabs shining, and he darted along the line of hansoms and
coupes in frantic search for his own.
"Oh, there you are!" he panted, flinging his suit-case up to a
snow-covered driver. "Do your best now; we're late!" And he leaped into
the dark coupe, slammed the door, and sank back on the cushions, turning
up the collar of his heavy overcoat.
There was a young lady in the farther corner of the cab, buried to her
nose in a fur coat. At intervals she shivered and pressed a fluffy muff
against her face. A glimmer from the sleet-smeared lamps fell across her
knees.
Down-town flew the cab, swaying around icy corners, bumping over
car-tracks, lurching, rattling, jouncing, while its silent occupants,
huddled in separate corners, brooded moodily at their respective
windows.
Snow blotted the glass, melting and running down; and over the watery
panes yellow light from shop windows played fantastically, distorting
vision.
Presently the young man pulled out his watch, fumbled for a match-box,
struck a light, and groaned as he read the time.
At the sound of the match striking, the young lady turned her head.
Then, as the bright flame illuminated the young man's face, she sat bolt
upright, dropping the muff to her lap with a cry of dismay.
He looked up at her. The match burned his fingers; he dropped it and
hurriedly ligh
|