"I want to give him time to pass the octroi," she answered, brisk as a robin redbreast.
"All right," I answered, "you know best."
But Chu-Chu, instead of going through the Boulogne gate, held on around past the Longchamps racecourse, and at such a clip that Rosalie got anxious and turned on all the power she had. As we passed the Porte de Boulogne I saw an agent raise his whistle to his lips and thought it was all up with us, but Rosalie blew him a kiss and he lowered it with a sheepish grin and a warning shake of his head. Although I did not know it at the time, Rosalie was quite a well-known figure, and had even been interviewed for several of the papers. Being in automobile circles myself, I should have known all about her, but did not, simply on account of the pressure of my own affairs.
But I was learning about her fast enough now. Under the impression that Chu-Chu was going right around Longchamps she closed in, and when he suddenly darted off to the left and pulled up at the St. Cloud gate we were only about a hundred metres behind him. It was a big surprise for Rosalie, but she wasn't feazed a particle. If she had kept on around we might have lost him, and if we had slowed down and waited for him to declare his essence it might have attracted attention, so up comes Rosaline full bore, brakes down at the gate, coming to a stop just behind Chu-Chu, and hops out to get her ticket.
As for me I had put on my tinted goggles and and whipped out a little breviary, and was reading away with my head ducked a trifle. Under the
