Brownrigg nodded his approval. “You look a grand couple,” he said. “Now get along an’ enjoy yourselves, I want to shut down.”
Rose moved past Slug and he caught the scent of a heady perfume. He followed her out, feeling a little dazed. It was as if he were experiencing a magnificent dream.
As soon as they were outside, Rose glanced up and down the street and frowned. “Where’s the car?” she asked.
Slug, who had every intention of taking a trolley, felt a sudden twinge of apprehension. “I ain’t gotta car,” he said.
“Oh, don’t say ain’t, it’s vulgar,” she said a little sharply. “I thought you were bound to have a car. Well, get a taxi. It’s quite cold standing here.”
Slug said, “Sure, sure,” rather feebly, and waved at a yellow cab that cruised by on the opposite side of the road.
The driver recognized him and gaped, then he looked past Slug and saw Rose. His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips. “Where to, buddy?” he asked. “A run round the park?”
Slug scowled at him. “’Ambassadors’,” he said shortly, jerking open the door.
The driver whistled. “O.K., big-shot,” he said, “’Ambassadors’ it is.”
Slug climbed in and sat down beside Rose. She had settled herself in a corner and had arranged her dress carefully on the seat so that Slug had to squash himself up in the far corner to avoid crushing it. Behind this brittle but impassable barrier, she surveyed him with a bright smile.