She had evidently no intention of waiting for him.

He sprang forward, thrust his arm through the carriage window, and grasped her hand.
"Princess," he cried, "you will not leave me like this.

I must see you to-morrow." "No, no," she gasped, shrinking into the corner of the carriage.
"You cannot be so cruel.

Tell me at least where a letter will reach you.
I shall not release your hand until you promise." With a quick movement the girl turned back the gauntlet of her long glove; the next instant the carriage was rattling down the street, while a chagrined young man stood alone on the kerb with a long, slender white glove in his hand.
"By Jove!" he said at last, as he folded it carefully and placed it in the pocket of his coat.

"It is the glove this time, instead of the slipper!".