Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 110: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 01 swallowed up in the darkness; only a few cabmen were left, too sleepy to insist that Guy should avail himself of their services. Another boat came in, and still no Mr. Bradford. ‘“Don't wait,” said Jack, trying not to let the lump in his throat make his voice tremble. ‘‘I don’t want to keep you.” ‘“You don't suppose I’d go offand leave you alone in a strange city, do you?” rejoined Guy, giving the hand he held a reassuring pressure. Then he added: ‘*Do you know where your uncle lives, or only the — store address ?” ‘*T’ve got the letter in my pocket,” was the reply. ‘*Maybe it’s on there. I don’t remember about SG Jack dropped the bag for an instant while he felt for the letter, which Guy was soon endeavoring to spell out under the glare of the electric lamp. For Mr. John Bradford was doubtless a better porter than scholar, and, as a matter of fact, Jack surpassed him in both writing and spelling. After a littlestudy Guy finally made out that the letter was written from one hundred and ninety something, West Sixty-Third Street. ‘‘That must be near Tenth Avenue,” he added, ‘so we can get in acar and ride straight up there. Come, I will go with you. Your uncle has probably been detained or else made a mistake himself in the ferry.” ‘‘QOh, will you do that?” cried Jack, overjoyed. ‘*Do you know I think you’re awful good. And just think, you didn’t know me till nine o'clock this morn- Gomicboo cS (E(@) m —»>