THE GIRL WHO CRIED
"I 've been waiting here ten minutes," said the man in the cab.
"I 'm so sorry, dear, but I did n't read—"
"Of course you did n't read," interrupted the other brusquely.
It was the voice of a young man not in the best of tempers, and the girl, folding her hands in her lap, prepared for the tirade which she knew was to follow her act of omission.
"You never seem to be able to do anything right," said the man. "I suppose it is your natural stupidity."
"Why could n't you meet me inside the station?" she asked with some show of spirit.
"I 've told you a dozen times that I don't want to be seen with you," said the man brutally. "I 've had enough trouble over you already. I wish to Heaven I 'd never met you."
The girl could have echoed that wish, but eighteen months of bullying had cowed and all but broken her spirit.
"You are a stone around my neck," said the man bitterly. "I have to hide you, and all
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