“That’s all,” he said, and handed me a driver’s license, horizon blue with saffron stripes.
I thanked him and bowed myself out of the place.
“From now on,” I thought, “it’s clear sailing.”
The car was ready. I had in my mind’s eye a near-by unfrequented street, where I was going to master the driving of it in ten minutes. Then I was going to shoot her up to the hotel, get my baggage and leave town.
“How about gas and oil?” I inquired.
“Oil, oui, but essence, no,” said the mechanic.
“Well, throw in ten gallons,” said I.
“Ah, but has monsieur an essence ticket?”
Monsieur never heard of it.
“Ah, then, monsieur can get no essence.”