She was exactly on time. Dr. Max, driving up to the corner five minutes late, found her there, quite matter-of-fact but exceedingly handsome, and acknowledged the evening's adventure much to his taste.
“A little air first, and then supper—how's that?”
“Air first, please. I'm very tired.”
He turned the car toward the suburbs, and then, bending toward her, smiled into her eyes.
“Well, this is life!”
“I'm cool for the first time to-day.”
After that they spoke very little. Even Wilson's superb nerves had felt the strain of the afternoon, and under the girl's dark eyes were purplish shadows. She leaned back, weary but luxuriously content.
“Not uneasy, are you?”
“Not particularly. I'm too comfortable. But I hope we're not seen.”
“Even if we are, why not? You are going with me to a case. I've driven Miss Simpson about a lot.”