CUPID EN ROUTE
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "It doesn't matter. He—rather startled me." Her gaze went past him to Wade, who, inwardly reviling Dave for his luck, stood at his shoulder. "Thank you," she repeated with a little inclination of her head, and the smile that accompanied seemed to include Wade. Then she passed on, the little silver-haired lady discharging questions with the rapidity of a gatling gun, and Wade, following her with his gaze, saw her swallowed up by an electric brougham. Dave, running a finger around inside his collar to ease the pressure, scowled about him.
"Where's that damned drunken galoot?" he growled.
"Gone," said Wade. "And we'd better go too. Here's our taxi."
"Think of him puttin' his dirty hands on a fine-lookin' gal like that, partner! I oughter rung his neck!" And Dave, still muttering his wrath, followed Wade into the cab.
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