There isn't any other way!"
"Yes, Miss; where?" Pete's voice was dubious, but respectful.
"To the Boylston Street subway--on the Common, you know--North-bound
side. I'll wait for you--but HURRY! You see, I'm all alone here."
"Alone! Miss Billy--in the subway at this time of night! But, Miss
Billy, you shouldn't--you can't--you mustn't--" stuttered the old man in
helpless horror.
"Yes, yes, Pete, but never mind; I am here! And I should think if 'twas
such a dreadful thing you would hurry FAST to get here, so I wouldn't be
alone," appealed Billy.
With an inarticulate cry Pete jerked the receiver on to the hook, and
stumbled away from the telephone. Five minutes later he had left the
house and was hurrying through the Common to the Boylston Street subway
station.
Billy, a long cloak thrown over her white dress, was waiting for him.
Her white slippers tapped the platform nervously, and her hair, under
the light scarf of lace, fluffed into little broken curls as if it had
been blown by the wind.
"Miss Billy, Miss Billy, what can this mean?" gasped the man. "Where is
Mrs. Stetson?"
"At Mrs. Hartwell's--you know she is giving a reception to-night. But
come, we must hurry! I'm after Mr. Bertram."
"After Mr. Bertram!"
"Yes, yes."
"Alone?--like this?"
"But I'm not alone now; I have you.
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