her path. The taxi-cab loomed up vaguely through the screen of fog. At the corner below an electric street lamp produced the effect of a huge, circular vignette in the white mist. The raucous barking of automobile horns, and the whir of engines came out of the street, and shadowy will-o'-the-wisp lights scuttled through the yielding, opaque wall.
"Be good enough to let me pass," she cried, suddenly possessed of a strange fear.
"Everything is all right," he said. "I'm not going to see you turned out like this without a place to go—"
"Will you compel me to call for help?" she said, backing away from him.
"Help? Why, hang it all, can't you see that I'm trying to help you? It was a rotten thing for mother to do. Poor little girl, you sha'n't go wandering around the streets looking for— Why, I'd never forgive myself if I didn't do something to offset the cruel thing she's done to you tonight. Haven't I told you all along you could depend on me? Trust me, little girl. I'll—"
Suddenly she blazed out at him.
"I see it all! That is your taxi, not mine! So that is your game, is it? You beast!"
"Don't be a damn' fool," he grated. "I ought to be sore as a crab at you, but I'm not. You need me now, and I'm going to stand by you. I'll forgive all that happened today, but you've got to—"
She struck his hand from her arm, and dashed out to the curb.
"Driver!" she cried out. "If you are a man you will protect me from this—"
