know. One rises with him. Bedsides, we should try to keep our lark in
fine feather instead of subjecting it to the discomforts of a gridiron
in some--"

His observations came to an abrupt close as both he and his companion
pitched forward violently, barely saving themselves from projection
through the glass. The hansom had come to a sudden stop, and outside
there was a confused sound of shouting with the crunching of wood and
the scraping of wheels. The horse plunged, the cab rocked sharply and
then came to a standstill.

"What is it?" gasped Grace, trying to straighten her hat and find her
bag at the same time. Hugh managed to raise the glass and peer dazedly
forth into the gathering night. A sweep of fine rain blew into their
faces. He saw a jumble of high vehicles, a small knot of men on the
sidewalk, gesticulating hands on every side, and then came the oaths and
sharp commands.

"We've smashed into something!" he said to her.

"Some one is hurt! Confound these reckless drivers! Why can't they
watch where--"

"Come down off that!" shouted a voice at the wheel, and he saw a huge
policeman brandishing his club at the driver above. "Come down, I say!"

"Aw, the d---- fool backed into me," retorted the driver of Hugh's
hansom. His fare noticed that they were at the Sherry corner, and the
usual crowd of seven-o'clock cabs was in full evidence.