But just now he seemed controlled
by a force greater than smooth-running judgment--a composite of many
forces: by sudden jealousy, by a sudden desire to shield Maggie, by a
sudden desire to see her. So as he stepped into the taxi, he said:
"The Grantham--quick!"
CHAPTER XVII
The taxi went rocking up Fourth Avenue. But now that decision was made
and he was headed toward Maggie, a little of judgment reasserted
itself. It would not be safe for him to walk openly into the Grantham
with a mouthful of questions. He did not know the number of Maggie's
suite. And Maggie might not be in. So he revised his plan slightly. He
called to his driver:
"Go to the Claridge first."
Five minutes later the taxi was in Forty-Fourth Street and Larry was
stepping out. Fortune favored him in one fact--or perhaps his
subconscious mind had based his plan upon this fact: the time was
half-past ten, the theaters still held their crowds, the streets were
empty, the restaurants were practically unoccupied. He was incurring
the minimum of risk.
"Wait for me," he ordered the driver. "I'll be out in five minutes."
In less than the half of the first of these minutes Larry had attained
his first objective: the secluded telephone-room down behind the
grill. It was unoccupied except for the telephone girl who was gazing
raptly at the sorrowful, romantic, and very soiled pages of "St.
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