"I'm all right," he insisted—"able-bodied—in full possession of my senses!"
"But any moment you may be recognized—"
"In this rig? It isn't likely…. Not that I care."
She surveyed his costume curiously, perplexed.
"Why are you dressed that way? Is it a disguise?"
"A pretty good one. But in point of fact, it's the national livery of my present station in life."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Simply that, out of my old job, I've turned to the first resort of the incompetent: I'm driving a taxi."
"Isn't it awfully—risky?"
"You'd think so; but it isn't. Few people ever bother to look at a chauffeur. When they hail a taxi they're in a hurry, as a rule—preoccupied with business or pleasure. And then our uniforms are a disguise in themselves: to the public eye we look like so many Chinamen!"