Once outside, the colonel caught the eye of a cabby, and he and his
daughter stepped in.

"Holland House, sir, did you say?" asked the cabby.

The colonel nodded. The cabby cracked his whip, and away they rolled
over the pavement.

Warburton's heart gave a great bound. She had actually leaned out of
the cab, and for one brief moment their glances had met. Scarce
knowing what he did, he jumped into another cab and went pounding
after. It was easily ten blocks from the pier when the cabby raised
the lid and peered down at his fare.

"Do you want t' folly them ahead?" he cried.

"No, no!" Warburton was startled out of his wild dream. "Drive to the
Holland House--no--to the Waldorf. Yes, the Waldorf; and keep your
nag going."

"Waldorf it is, sir!" The lid above closed.

Clouds had gathered in the heavens. It was beginning to rain. But
Warburton neither saw the clouds nor felt the first few drops of
rain. All the way up-town he planned and planned--as many plans as
there were drops of rain; the rain wet him, but the plans drowned
him--he became submerged. If I were an expert at analysis, which I am
not, I should say that Mr. Robert was not violently in love; rather I
should observe that he was fascinated with the first really fine face
he had seen in several years. Let him never see Miss Annesley again,