ted another; and the flickering radiance brightened upon
the face of a girl whom he had never before laid eyes on.

"Good heavens!" he said. "Where's my sister?"

The young lady was startled, but resolute. "You have made a dreadful
mistake," she said; "you are in the wrong cab--"

The match went out; there came a brief moment of darkness, then the cab
turned a corner, and the ghostly light of electric lamps played over
them in quivering succession.

"Will you please stop this cab?" she said, unsteadily. "You have
mistaken my cab for yours. I was expecting my brother."

Stunned, he made no movement to obey. A sudden thrill of fear passed
through her.

"I must ask you to stop this cab," she faltered.

The idiotic blankness of his expression changed to acute alarm.

"Stop this cab?" he cried. "Nothing on earth can induce me to stop this
cab!"

"You must!" she insisted, controlling her voice. "You must stop it at
once!"

"How can I?" he asked, excitedly; "I'm late now; I haven't one second to
spare!"

"Do you refuse to leave this cab?"

"I beg that you will compose yourself--"

"Will you go?" she insisted.

A jounce sent them flying towards each other; they collided and
recoiled, regarding one another in breathless indignation.

"This is simply hideous!" said the young lady, seizing the door-handle.

"Please don't open that door!" he said. She tried to wrench it open; the
handle stuck--or perhaps the strength had left her wrist. But it was
not courage that failed, for she faced him, head held high, and--

"You coward!" she said.

Over his face a deep flush burned--and it was a good face,
too--youthfully wilful, perhaps, with a firm, clean-cut chin and
pleasant eyes.

"If I were a coward," he said, "I'd stop this cab and get out. I never
faced anything that frightened me half as much as you do!"

She looked him straight in the eyes, one hand twisting at the knob.

"Don't you suppose that this mistake of mine is as humiliating and
unwelcome to me as it is to you?" he said. "If you stop this cab it will
ruin somebody's life. Not mine--if it were my own life, I wouldn't
hesitate."

Her hand, still clasping the silver knob, suddenly fell limp.

"You say that you are in a hurry?" she asked, with dry lips.

"A desperate hurry," he replied.

"So am I," she said, bitterly; "and, thanks to your stupidity, I must
make the journey without my brother!"

There was a silence, then she turned towards him a