"I also have many important engagements this week," I replied.
"This duty is to be taken seriously—" began Granby.
"Yes," I said, "if we don't run her in we ought to see her home. She can't stay here rousing the street."
"That was what I was about to suggest as the proper course for you when you interrupted me," said Granby. "Where do you live?" he demanded.
"Fourteen, Benbow Avenue," replied the lady; "and pore Uncle Sam's been dead eleven years."
"Come on," I said. "Get up and we'll see you home."
The lady pushed me aside, gripped Granby's arm and said affectionately, "'Ow you remind me of pore ole Jim in 'is best days afore 'e got jugged!"
Granby snorted as he dragged the lady onward. I think he knew that I was smiling in the darkness.
"Jus' like ole times, when we was courtin' together," continued the lady. "If it 'adn't been for a bronze-topped barmaid comin' between us, what might 'ave been! ah, what might 'ave been!"
This tender reminiscence prompted the lady to sing, "Come to me, sweet Marie," with incidental attempts at a step-dance. The finale brought us to Benbow Avenue.