In the hotel corridor stood
Ella and Fenger, the former looking worried, the latter
savage.
"Where in the world--" began Ella.
"Caught in the jam. And I didn't want to get out. It was--
it was--glorious!" She was shaking hands with Fenger, and
realizing for the first time that she must be looking
decidedly sketchy and that she had lost her handkerchief.
She fished for it in her bag, hopelessly, when Fenger
released her hand. He had not spoken. Now he said:
"What's the matter with your eyes?"
"I've been crying," Fanny confessed cheerfully.
"Crying!"
"The parade. There was a little girl in it--" she stopped.
Fenger would not be interested in that little girl. Now
Clancy would have--but Ella broke in on that thought.
"I guess you don't realize that out in front of this hotel
there's a kind of a glorified taxi waiting, with the top
rolled back, and it's been there half an hour. I never
expect to see the time when I could enjoy keeping a taxi
waiting. It goes against me."
"I'm sorry. Really. Let's go.
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