"I don't want to talk to him. I hate him."

"Look here," he observed, "if you keep that up, he'll begin to beleive
you. Don't take these little quarrels too hard, Barbara. He's so happy
to-night in the thought that you----"

"Does he live in a Cabinet, or where?"

"In a what? I don't get that word."

"Don't bother. Where shall I send his letter?"

Well, it seemed he had an apartment at the Arcade, and I rang off. It
was after eleven by that time, and by the time I had got into my school
mackintosh and found a heavy veil of mother's and put it on, it was
almost half past.

The house was quiet, and as Patrick had gone, there was no one around in
the lower Hall. I slipped out and closed the door behind me, and
looked for a taxicab, but the veil was so heavy that I hailed our own
limousine, and Smith had drawn up at the curb before I knew him.

"Where to, lady?" he said. "This is a private car, but I'll take you
anywhere in the city for a dollar."

A flush of just indignation rose to my cheek, at the knowledge that
Smith was using our car for a taxicab! And just as I was about to speak
to him severely, and threaten to tell father, I remembered, and walked
away.