"I don't need a man and his wife to look after me," she retorted sharply.
He gave her an attentive stare. "Who does look after you?" His meaning was obvious.
"Myself, of course. Why don't we go to the Savoy?"
"How persistent you are. Do you want to know why, really? Promise you won't be offended?"
"If I am I'll hop out."
"Well ... when you let me buy you some pretty clothes I'll take you there."
He half expected she might "hop out," especially as the car had come to a standstill in a traffic block. She looked hot-tempered. But Maggy was too level-headed to be sensitive on the score of clothes.
"I suppose that king in the story wouldn't have been seen with his beggar maid at the Savoy until he'd dressed her out," she remarked ironically. "Well, you won't go there with me any time, anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because this young woman provides her own wardrobe."