“Come on, little pilgrim,” he said, “it’s two o’clock in the morning, and the Temple of Wisdom is closed. Bath and bed is your best bet.”
She pinned on her hat mechanically, smoothed her wrinkled dress. Then she looked up at him in a dazed way.
“Ready?” he asked gently.
“Yes. What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s go,” he said lightly, and took her by the hand again.
Slowly through starry darkness he guided her between prone shapes on the grass, and so along the asphalt, east, until the silvery lamps of Fifth Avenue stretched away before them in endless, level constellations.
He was beginning to wonder where to take her at such an hour. But to the sort of mind that was Annan’s, direct method and simple solution always appealed. He came to a swift conclusion,—came to it the more easily because it was an amusing one.
“You’re not afraid of me, you say?” he repeated.
She shook her head. “You seem kind.... Should I be?”
“Well, not in my case,” he said, laughing.... “We’ll take that taxi—” He hailed it, gave directions, and seated himself beside her, now keenly amused.