"Driving her back?"
The chauffeur suppressed an instinct to spit disgustedly and said, "Yes, wuss luck." Mizzi observed them, wondering.
"What would you take," said Henry, breathing hard, "to drive us back instead?"
The chauffeur shook his head.
"I'd lose my job."
"Five pounds?" hinted Henry.
"A job's a job."
"I'll find you another."
"Garn!"
"Straight! I'm Henry Brown, taxicab proprietor, Bloomsbury. Is that good enough?"