I made one dash past the conductor, reached the seat where my cherished umbrella still reposed and captured it.

The conductor must have thought me hopelessly demented, for I dashed out as the car stopped at the next corner without having paid a cent of carfare or offered a sign of an explanation.
"When I passed the corner where the fat policeman stood, he looked at me with respectful admiration, and said: 'You got that car, lady, didn't you ?' and I proudly acknowledged that I did.

I was only sorry that there weren't more persons about to appreciate Emma Dean's Two Block Dash." Patience joined in the laughter that had accompanied Emma's narrative.
"How are you getting on with your play, Emma ?" she asked.
"I still have the title," returned Emma blandly, "but I can't decide upon my characters.

There are so many shining lights at Wayne Hall.

You know my play is entitled "Life at Wayne Hall; Or, the Expressman's Surprise." The only character I've actually decided upon is the expressman.