“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled sheepishly.
The policeman, with that lionlike courage which makes the New York constabulary what it is, endeavoured to assert himself at this point.
“Hey!” he boomed.
Mrs. Porter turned her gaze upon him, her cold, steely gaze.
“I beg your pardon?”
“This won’t do, ma’am. I’ve me report to make. How did this happen?”
“You have already been informed. The man ran into my automobile.”
“But——”
“I shall not charge him.”
She turned and followed Kirk.