I said, “Your only chance of getting out of this mess is to do what I tell you.”
“That’s what’s got me into it so far.”
I said, “Suit yourself,” and turned my back.
She stood there on the sidewalk, her eyes sparkling with anger. Then she turned without a word and sailed majestically into the lobby of the apartment house. I casually walked past the door and looked in after she’d been gone a minute or two. She was standing at the counter, her hands playing with a fountain pen, her diamonds sending out splashes of light. Bertha had an air of haughty condescension which seemed to be getting across. I hoped she’d remember not to pull any profanity.
After a while, a taxi drove up. Bertha stayed on inside, talking with the clerk. The cab driver went in. A few minutes later, Bertha Cool came out through the glass-panelled door to the sidewalk, walking in that smooth-flowing manner which was so characteristic of her.
The cab driver on one side and I on the other helped her get in the cab.
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.
“Straight down the street,” I said. “Drive slow.”
I got in the cab. The driver pulled down the flag and started.
“Get them?” I asked.