Law, Mons. Royal Underwood Corona jay-walked off the pavement and deliberately dented my front mud-guard with his body. Really, I thought at first I had ruined him and so did the pleased mob that quickly forgot their own affairs and rushed over to look at the catastrophe. An ant-hill is the only place on earth where a crowd collects quicker than on Broadway, you know that! But my prey was more burnt up than wounded and the moment he arose from the street he let out a frightful squawk.
"Why don't you learn how to drive?" he demands loudly, brushing off his clothes.
"Why don't you mind your own business?" I answered calmly. "If you don't like my driving, keep off the streets!"
The innocent bystanders hee-hawed gleefully and Royal glared at me with violence in each glittering eye.
"Shall I take you to a hospital?" I asked hurriedly. Honestly, he looked as if he had evil designs on my health.
"No!" he growls. "Fortunately, I'm not hurt—but that's no fault of yours, young lady! Don't you ever blow your horn to warn pedestrians?"
"Well, I used to," I admitted, "but it makes such a fearful noise it upsets my nerves and then I can't drive at all!"
He didn't seem able to cope with that kind of patter,
