Why, oh, why, must women of my Sex do all the forgiving?
He stood in the doorway so I could see the bandige and
would be sorry for him. But I apeared not to notice him.
"Well?" he said.
I was silent.
"Now look here," he went on, "I'm darned lucky to be here
and not dead, young lady. And if you are going to make a fuss,
I'm going away and join the Ambulance in France."
"They'd better not let you drive a car if they care
anything about it," I said, coldly.
"That's it! Go to it! Give me the Devil, of course. Why
should you care that I have a broken arm, or almost?"
"Well," I said, in a cutting manner, "broken bones mend
themselves and do not have to be taken to a Garage, where they
charge by the hour and loaf most of the time. May I ask, if not
to much trouble to inform me, whom you took out in my car last
night? Because I'd like to send her your pin. I'd go on wearing
it, but it's to expencive."
"Oh, very well," he said. He then brought out my key ring,
although unable to take the keys off because of having but one
hand. "If you're as touchy as all that, and don't care for the
real story, I'm through.
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