"I am not the general sort of person," said he. "It is not strange that I should arouse extraordinary feelings, is it? Driver"--he had the trap in the roof up and was thrusting through it a slip of paper--"take us to that street and number." She gasped with a tightening at the heart. "I must return to the hotel at once," she said hurriedly. He fixed his gaze upon her. "We are going to the preacher's," said he. "The preacher's?" she murmured, shrinking in terror. "Grant is waiting for us there"--he glanced at his watch--"or, rather, will be there in about ten minutes. We are a little earlier than I anticipated." She flushed crimson, paled, felt she would certainly suffocate with rage. "Before you speak," continued he, "listen to me. You don't want to go back into that torment of doubt in which we've both been hopping about for a month, like a pair of damned souls being used as tennis balls by fiends. Let's settle the business now, and for good and all. Let us have peace--for God's sake, peace! I know you've been miserable. I know I've been on the rack. And it's got to stop. Am I not right?" She leaned back in her corner of the cab, shut her eyes, said no more--and all but ceased to think. What was there to say? What was there to think? When Fate ceases to tolerate our pleasant delusion of free will, when it openly and firmly seizes us and hurries us along, we do not discuss or comment. We close our minds, relax and submit. At the parsonage he sprang out, stood by to help her descend, half-dragged her from the cab when she hesitated. He shouted at the driver: "How much do I owe you, friend?" "Six dollars, sir." "Not on your life!" shouted Craig furiously. He turned to Margaret, standing beside him in a daze. "What do you think of THAT! This fellow imagines because I've got a well-dressed woman along I'll submit. But I'm not that big a snob." He was looking up at the cabman again. "You miserable thief!" he exclaimed. "I'll give you three dollars, and that's too much by a dollar." "Don't you call me names!" yelled the cabman, shaking his fist with the whip in it. "The man's drunk," cried Josh to the little crowd of people that had assembled. Margaret, overwhelmed with mortification, tugged at his sleeve. "The man's not overcharging much--if any," she said in an undertone. "You're saying that because you hate scenes," replied Josh loudly. "You go on into the house. I'll take care of this hound." Margaret retreated within the parsonage gate; her very soul was sick. She longed for the ground to open and swallow her forever. It would be bad enough for a man to make such an exhibition at any time; but to make it when he was about to be married!--and in such circumstances!--to squabble and scream over a paltry dollar or so! "Here's a policeman!" cried Craig. "Now, you thief, we'll see!" The cabman sprang down from his seat. "You damn jay!" he bellowed. "You don't know New York cabfares. Was you ever to town before--eh?"