The policeman smiled sarcastically.
“That’s the same old gag! They never has any teeth. Not till they bite some uppish old geezer, and a feller like me loses his job for lettin’ ’em loose on the street! Name? Address?” He took out a small book and looked at Claire ferociously.
Her indifference scarcely rippled, Claire was about to comply, when a man crossed the street and interposed himself between them.
“What’s the matter, Bill? Afraid the flea’ll bite you?” exclaimed a jocular voice. “Here, take this, that’s good medicine for flea bites. I ought to know, I’m a doctor. Am I not, Mrs. Petrovskey?”
The man wheeled and Claire found herself looking up into the amused face of Dr. Elliott.
“Why, it’s you!” Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“You thought I was trying to pick you up, didn’t you?” laughed the young doctor. “Well, I am! My car is across the street. Come on, it’s a perfect day for a drive!” He nodded gayly to the policeman, who was pocketing his medicine in mollified silence. A hand beneath Claire’s arm, he started to pilot her through the traffic.
She hesitated on the curb, looking up at him in plaintive terror. His professional eye noted her pallor and the wistful rings about the dark eyes.
“But I don’t think I’d better,” stammered Claire. “I—I came out for a walk, you know. You—you wanted me to walk!”
“What a timid little lady! I shan’t run away with you. Won’t you change your mind, please? It’s such a wonderful day and I’m all alone in the big city. I promise not to be ogreish!”