"I can't stand being fussed around by all these porters, and having to go and take pot luck amongst a pile of other people's baggage.
We'll just take one of these two-wheeled sardine tins that you people call hansoms, and get round to the hotel as quick as we can.

There are a few pals of mine generally lunch in the cafe there, and they mayn't all have cleared out if we look alive." They started a moment or two later.

Mr.Coulson leaned forward and, folding his arms upon the apron of the cab, looked about him with interest.
"Say," he remarked, removing his cigar to the corner of his mouth in order to facilitate conversation, "this old city of yours don't change any." "Not up in this part, perhaps," the reporter agreed.

"We've some fine new buildings down toward the Strand." Mr.Coulson nodded.
"Well," he said, "I guess you don't want to be making conversation.

You want to know about Hamilton Fynes.