She had run it rather close, but now, glancing down at her wrist-watch, she realised that, failing a block in the traffic, she would catch her train fairly easily.
It was after they had entered the Park that the first contre-temps occurred.

The taxi jibbed and came abruptly to a standstill.

Nan let down the window and leaned out.
"What's the matter ?" she asked with some anxiety.
The driver, descending leisurely from his seat, regarded her with a complete lack of interest.
"That's just w'ot I'm goin' to find out," he replied in a detached way.
Nan watched him while he poked indifferently about the engine, then sank back into her seat with a murmur of relief as he at last climbed once more into his place behind the wheel and the taxi got going again.
But almost before two minutes had elapsed there came another halt, followed by another lengthy examination of the engine's internals.
Engine trouble spelt disaster, and Nan hopped out and joined the driver in the road.
"What's wrong ?" she asked.

She looked down anxiously at her wrist-watch.
"I shall miss my train at this rate." "_I_ cawn't 'elp it if you do," returned the man surlily.

He was one of the many drivers who had taken advantage of a long-suffering public during the war-time scarcity of taxi-cabs and he hoped to continue the process during the peace.