It was past eleven when they drew up finally outside Jim's flat.
"But why the dickens did you want me to go slower, after telling me to tread on the juice?" demanded Percy indignantly.
"One is so much more exposed to things in the back seat, Percy dear," said the girl. "But you drove very nicely."
"Why, we've taken as long to get up as we did going down counting in the twenty minutes we waited while Jim went ahead. Rotten."
"Push inside, and don't talk so much," remarked Jim. "As an ornament to the doorstep I'd prefer a gargoyle. I expect you could do with a drink, Robinson."
"Well, sir, I don't mind if I do," agreed the sailor. "Them machines seem to make one thirsty like."
Jim smiled, and led the way. And as a hardened bachelor he noted with a certain misgiving that installing Judy
