“Can't have this on Broadway, miss. Obstruction.” He could not speak gruffly in the face of such beauty--especially with a Broadway crowd at his back. “It's all over. Just let me put this money in the blind man's cup.” Kitty poured her coins into the receptacle. At the same time Hawksley laid the fiddle in the blind man's lap. Then he turned to Kitty and boomed a long Russian phrase at her. Her quick wit caught the intent. “You see, he doesn't understand that this cannot be done in New York. I couldn't explain.” “All right, miss; but don't do it again.” The policeman grinned. “And please don't be harsh with the blind man. Just tell him he mustn't play on Broadway again. Thank you!” She linked her arm in Hawksley's, and they went on; and the crowd dissolved; only the policeman and the blind man remained, the one contemplating his duty and the other his vision of heaven. “What a lark!” exclaimed Hawksley. “Were you asking me for your hat?” “I was telling the bobby to go to the devil!” They laughed like children. “March hares!” he said. “No. April fools! Good heavens, the time! Twenty minutes to seven. Our dinner!” “We'll take a taxi.... Dash it!” “What's wrong?” “Not a bally copper in my pockets!” “And I left my handbag on the sideboard! We'll have to walk. If we hurry we can just about make it.” Meantime, there lay in wait for them--this pair of April fools--a taxicab. It stood snugly against the curb opposite the entrance to Cutty's apartment. The door was slightly ajar. The driver watched the south corner; the three men inside never took their gaze off the north corner. “But, I say, hasn't this been a jolly lark?” “If we had known we could have borrowed a dollar from the blind man; he'd never have missed it.” CHAPTER XXVII Champagne in the glass is a beautiful thing to see. So is water, the morning after. That is the fault with frolic; there is always an inescapable rebound. The most violent love drops into humdrum tolerance. A pessimist is only a poor devil who has anticipated the inevitable; he has his headache at the start. Mental champagnes have their aftermaths even as the juice of the grape. Hawksley and Kitty, hurrying back, began to taste lees. They began to see things, too--menace in every loiterer, threat in every alley. They had had a glorious lark; somewhere beyond would be the piper with an appalling bill. They exaggerated the dangers, multiplied them; perhaps wisely. There would be no let-down in their vigilance until they reached haven. But this state of mind they covered with smiling masks, banter, bursts of laughter, and flashes of wit.