Slightly shaken, Simon let himself out and went up the short flight of steps to the street.
Avalon Dexter was on the sidewalk, talking to the doorman as he held the door of a taxi for her. Even with her back to him, the Saint couldn't have mistaken the long bronze hair that hung over the shoulders of her light wolf coat. She got into the cab as he reached the street level; and before the doorman could close the door Simon took two steps across the pavement, ducked under the man's startled nose, and sat down beside her.
He held out a quarter, and the door closed.
She gazed at him in silence.
He gazed at her, smiling.
"Good morning," she said. "This is cosy."
"I thought I might buy you a drink somewhere," he said, "and wash the taste of that dump out of our mouths."
"Thanks," she said. "But I've had all I can stand of creep joints for one night."
"Then may I see you home?"
Her candid eyes considered him for a bare moment.