Mrs. Perkins. Then Emma is coming here?

Bradley. That's the idea, on her wheel--coming down the Boulevard,
across Seventy-second Street, through the Park, down Madison, across
Twenty-third, down Fourth to Twenty-first, then here.

Perkins. Bully ride that.

Mrs. Perkins. Alone?

Bradley (sadly). I hope so--but these bicyclists have a way of
flocking together. For all I know, my beloved Emma may now be
coasting down Murray Hill escorted by some bicycle club from Jersey
City.

Mrs. Perkins. Oh dear--Mr. Bradley!

Bradley. Oh, it's all right, I assure you, Mrs. Perkins. Perfectly
right and proper. It's merely part of the exercise, don't you know.
There's a hail-fellow-well-metness about enthusiastic bicyclists, and
Emma is intensely enthusiastic. It gives her a chance, you know, and
Emma has always wanted a chance. Independence is a thing she's been
after ever since she got her freedom, and now, thanks to the wheel,
she's got it again, and even I must admit it's harmless. Funny she
doesn't get here though (looking at his watch); she's had time to
come down twice.

[Bicycle bells are heard ringing without.