Joy was off in the direction of the garage and in no time at all she was back in my Cadillac convertible. As she sailed by I managed to hook a finger around the door handle and get a foot inside.
This was no mean feat, as I was also occupied in hauling Bag Ears along by the collar. I managed to deposit him in the seat beside Joy and squeeze in beside him.
"A burlycue queen, eh?" Joy was muttering. "Well, she's not so much! If she couldn't get her clothes off she'd starve to death."
"Darling," I said, "I don't think this is the sort of thing you should be doing. It's far too dangerous for a girl."
"Or anybody else," Bag Ears moaned. There was a bleak look on his face. "I don't like playing around with a guy like Hands McCaffery or friends of a guy like him. It's a good way to collect your insurance."
"She's heading for Higgins Drive," Joy observed.
Which was entirely true. The roadster had made a turn on two wheels and was going west.
"But our honeymoon," I said, plaintively.
"Yeah," Bag Ears repeated, "what about our—your honeymoon?"
Joy's eyes were sparkling. She turned them on me. The car lurched. She returned her eyes to the road. "Yes, darling. Our honeymoon! Isn't it wonderful?"