“I’ll pay ’em,” Ned agreed. “I’ll throw in an extra twenty to pay for their loss of time.”
“This young lady says she ain’t hurt,” the policeman went on. “It certainly is no credit to you that she ain’t. There is plenty of witnesses here if she wants to make a suit.”
“I’ll give this young lady complete satisfaction,” Ned promised. He turned to her in easy friendliness, a queer little crooked smile, winning and astonishingly juvenile, appearing at his mouth. “Now let’s get in my car. I’ll take you home—and we can talk this over.”
They pushed together through the little circle of the curious, he helped her courteously into the big, easy seat of his roadster, and in a moment they were threading their way through the early evening traffic.
“Good Lord,” the man breathed. “I wouldn’t have blamed that mob if they had lynched me. Where do we go?”
She directed him out Madison, into a district of humble, modest, but respectable residences. “It’s lucky you came along—I don’t often get a ride clear to my door.”
“Lucky! I want to say if it wasn’t for all the luck in the world you’d be going to the hospital instead. I’m taking all the blame for that smash back there—I got off mighty lucky. Now let’s settle about the dress—and a few other things. First—you’re sure you’re not hurt?”
He was a little surprised at the gay, girlish smile about her lips. “Not a particle. It would be nice if I could go to the hospital two weeks or so, just to rest—but I haven’t the conscience to do it. I’m not even scratched—just pushed over in the street. And I’m afraid I can’t even charge you for the dress. I’ve always had too much conscience, Mr. Cornet.”
“Of course I’m going to pay——”
“The dress cost only about twenty dollars—at a sale. And it doesn’t seem to be even damaged. Of course it will have to be cleaned. To save you the embarrassment I see growing in your face, I’ll gladly send the bill to you if you like——”