“Well, don’t they?” She smiled tolerantly. “Let’s be friends. If we’re sensible, we can have such a jolly trip to London—such a lark. No more sentimentals—promise—— Shake hands on it.”
As she held out both her hands, the cloak fell open, revealing her pageant costume. She noticed that his eyes rested on it. “Yes, I kept my bargain—even to the sandals.” The glimmer of her feet peeped out for a second beneath the hem of her skirt. “Now, how about making a start?”
He helped her into the seat which, up to now, had reproached him with its emptiness. He didn’t have to imagine any longer.
He climbed in beside her. “Are you warm?”
“Very comfy.”
“What time do you want to get there? I can get you there by seven or eight, doing twenty an hour—that’s to say, if nothing goes wrong.”
“Do me splendidly. I ought to tell you while I remember: I think this is awfully decent of you.”
“Not decent at all” He hesitated. “It’s not decent because—well, because I always told myself that I’d do something like this some day.”
“Remember your promise.” She held up a warning finger.
“You didn’t let me finish. What I meant to say was that, ever since I was a little kid, I’ve played at rescuing princesses.”