The elevator boy loved to tell how she never made a mistake in the floor.
"Do you think she'd get off at the fifteenth or the seventeenth?
Not she.
Sometimes she puts her nose out and smells at the other floors, but she won't get off until I stop at the right one.

Sometimes she has to ride up and down three or four times before any one wants the sixteenth.

Eh, Susan ?" he added in caressing tones; but Susan was watching the floors flash past and paid no attention until, arrived at the top, she and Pete stepped off together.
It was a cool, clear day, for the wind was from the north, but on the southern balcony the sun was warm.

Pete sat down in the kitchen-chair set for him, tilted back, and looked out over the Statue of Liberty, which stood like a stunted baby, to the blue Narrows.

He saw one thing clearly, and that was that he would not go if Mathilde would not go with him.
He envied people who could make up their minds by thinking.