He was standing bareheaded in the middle of Fifth Avenue and blocking the tide of carriages flowing in either direction.

Among the faces put out of the carriage windows he saw that of Dryfoos looking from a coupe.

The old man knew him, and said, "Jump in here, Mr.March"; and March, who had mechanically picked up his hat, and was thinking, "Now I shall have to tell Isabel about this at once, and she will never trust me on the street again without her," mechanically obeyed.

Her confidence in him had been undermined by his being so near Conrad when he was shot; and it went through his mind that he would get Dryfoos to drive him to a hatter's, where he could buy a new hat, and not be obliged to confess his narrow escape to his wife till the incident was some days old and she could bear it better.

It quite drove Lindau's death out of his mind for the moment; and when Dryfoos said if he was going home he would drive up to the first cross-street and turn back with him, March said he would be glad if he would take him to a hat-store.