respond to an encore on the act I'd just finished. At this crisis, Thurston saved me.
"You're all shook up, Mrs. Scofield," he told her; and then I was sure, as I'd suspected before, that he was in on her game. He knew that I hadn't just accidentally run him down; and he had different ideas about the advisability of trying their old plan with the other car.
He was a thin, Cassius-looking driver of about thirty and of the sort that smoke and dope, as well as think, too much. He was a smooth-shaven chap and would be good looking if the bones of his cheeks were less sharp.
"I'm all right, Thurston," she assured him; but I saw she was thinking things over and sparring for time.
"You'd better go back into the house and rest, Mrs. Scofield," Thurston suggested respectfully enough but strengthened the suggestion with a jerk of his head which he supposed I didn't see.
Cars were stopping all about us and people piling out and asking questions and offering help and so on. Shirley took Thurston's tip and let him and me assist her across the street into her house.
She thanked me beautifully and tried at once
