because she isn’t a bit of a cat. And anyway,” Bundle ended, somewhat obscurely, “one must be a sport, mustn’t one?”
“Oh, certainly,” Anthony agreed. But he was still puzzled. He had no idea what had prompted Bundle to give him so much information unasked. That he was glad of it, he did not deny.
“Here are the trams,” said Bundle, with a sigh. “Now, I suppose, I shall have to drive carefully.”
“It might be as well,” agreed Anthony.
His ideas and Bundle’s on the subject of careful driving hardly coincided. Leaving indignant suburbs behind them, they finally emerged into Oxford Street.
“Not bad going, eh?” said Bundle, glancing at her wristwatch.
Anthony assented fervently.
“Where do you want to be dropped?”
“Anywhere. Which way are you going?”
“Knightsbridge way.”
“All right, drop me at Hyde Park Corner.”
“Goodbye,” said Bundle, as she drew up at the place indicated. “What about the return journey?”
“I’ll find my own way back, thanks very much.”
“I have scared him,” remarked Bundle.
“I shouldn’t recommend driving with you as a tonic for nervous old ladies, but personally I’ve enjoyed it. The last time I was in equal danger