She smiled at that, although she was not quite certain whether she ought to go. Still, he had really surrendered, and she felt rather grateful to him.
"All right; I'll get my hat," she said.
Five minutes later they were moving up Fifth Avenue in Bill's car.
"Would you honestly have turned me over to the bondsman?" he asked suddenly.
"Let's talk about stationery," she reminded him. "I suppose for a man it ought to be plain white."
Bill turned to study her and bumped fenders with a taxicab.
"Pink," he declared.
"Pink! For a man?"
"Pink, with little freckles on it," he said, taking another look.