"I want to go, Robert," she cried. "I must go."
"But, my dear," protested Thornton harshly, "this is simply the height of absurdity. For Heaven's sake be sensible, Naida. Just imagine what people would say if they saw us here with this outfit of idiots—they'd think we'd gone mad."
"I don't care what they'd think," she returned feverishly, her frail fingers plucking nervously at the arms of her chair. "I must go—I must—I must."
Thornton glanced at the nurse, then stared at his wife—Miss Harvey's meaning look was hardly necessary to drive home to him the fact that Mrs. Thornton was in no condition to be denied anything.
Red-faced, Thornton strode to the back of the chair and began to push it along.
"Of all the damned foolishness that ever I heard of," he gritted savagely, "this is the worst!" His face went redder still with mortification. "If this ever leaks out I'll never hear the last of it. Look at us—bringing up the rear of a gibbering mob of yokels! We're fit for a padded cell!"
In the crowd, Madison rubbed shoulders for a moment with Pale Face Harry.
"Who's the party with the wheel-chair behind?" he asked.
"Millionaire—Chicago—private car—Flopper's got the wife going hard—rode down
