“If I did that,” she said, “I’d swap my girdle for a straight jacket.”
After a while, I guess she must have gone to sleep. I sent the Cadillac tearing into the night. It was certainly’ a fine bus and the miles kept clicking up on the dashboard. I expected her to wake up after an hour or so and take over, but she kept on sleeping. I guess the kid was tired. She didn’t wake up until I was bumping over the cobbles that led to the outskirts of Orizaba. Then I heard a little gasp and she said, “Why it’s daylight. Have I been sleeping all this time?”
“Well, someone’s been snoring in my ear,” I returned, as I swung the Cadillac into the main street. “If it wasn’t you, we’ve got a stranger on board.”
“I don’t snore,” she said coldly and I could hear her hunting in her bag for the inevitable powder and puff.
“Think nothing of it,” I said. “You don’t have to be shy with me.” I pulled up outside a small hotel in pink stone.
“I liked the sound. It made me homesick.”
“Homesick?” she asked as I twisted round to look at her.
“Sure,” I said. “At one time I used to live on a farm.” Then I got out of the car hurriedly.
“Just wait here and I’ll fix things. Do you want a room or just a bath and coffee?”
“No room,” she said firmly.