'That so?'
'There is one moment when a loud pop is enough, either way.'
'I see,' said the bus driver. 'Yeah .... well, you'd know. That's very interesting.'
The car moved. It was not speeding. But no second was lost by indecision or by fumbhng. Mr. Gibson found himself admiring this with peculiar pleasure.
'If you want to talk about it . . .' the bus driver said, and Paul said again, 'No, no . . .'
Mr. Gibson answered truthfully. 'I'd like to talk to you about it. Not just now, I guess.' He felt expanded and relaxed in contact with a mind that interested him. A mind that cheerfully pried off a certain lid ... a lid that had been stifling and muffling and shutting up that which is interesting.
He looked sideways at Rosemary, and her eyes were
visited by the ghost of a smile. 'Tell me about your blonde, Mr. Coffey,' she said almost'brightly.
'Look at me, rushing to the rescue,' the bus driver said, 'of a blonde who doesn't know she's mine. I'll tell you a little bit. I see her nearly every day. Watch for her, now. I'm getting to know her. I'm thinking of getting up the nerve to speak to her. Never have. Doesn't matter. I already know that I like her a lot. So how can I let her get the poison? Will this offend her, Mrs. Gibson?'
'Rosemary,' said Rosemary gravely. 'No, it won't offend her, Mr. Coffey. It won't offend her at all.'
'Call me Lee,' said the bus driver. 'These are unusual circumstances. Listen, Rosemary, she is a beautiful blonde.''
'You are a very interesting man,' said Rosemary.
'That's possible,' said Lee Coffey thoughtfully.
It was Paul who came in with an ordinary question. 'Have you been a bus driver long?'
'Ten years. Since I got out of the Army. Because I like to think.'
'Like to think?' Paul repeated after him, seeming to find this shockingly obscure.
'Ruminate. Ruminate,' said the bus driver. 'That's why I like a useful but not creative job. You start pushing and trying to a purpose ... or even just trying to make a million dollars ... it warps your thinking. My thinking, anyhow. The kind I like.'
Paul said, impatient with bewilderment, 'How can you possibly find this girl, this blonde, whoever she is . . . ?'
'He'll find her,' said Rosemary with parted lips. 'Don't you think so, Kenneth?'
'I do,' said Mr. Gibson. 'I think so.' He felt astonished. The car slipped up to a red light and stopped smoothly.
'Mr. Coffey—Lee.' Suddenly Rosemary took in a great breath and threw herself on her knees in the tonneau. 'Please help me? Tell me something?'
'Sure if I can . . .'
'You are an expert driver. I can see that you are. Will you tell me ... I believe you will know. I can believe you.'
'What's the trouble?' said the bus driver, sending them swiftly off the mark as the light changed.
Mr. Gibson sat astonished while Rosemary knelt and poured out words toward this bus driver's ear.
'It is a foggy night,' she said. 'I am driving. I am trying to be careful. I know ... to the best of my knowledge . . . that I am on the right side of the road.'
'Go ahead,' said the bus driver encouragingly.
'I also think I know that there is a deep ditch to my right. I think We have come that far . . . you see?'
'Yeah . . . yeah . . .'
'All of a sudden there is a car coming head on . . . and he is on his left side of the road. I have to do something quick.'
'Can't deny that,' said Lee Coffey cheerfully.
'I turned left' said Rosemary intensely. 'You see, I thought . . .' She buried her head on her arm.
'So what happened?' asked the driver.
'He turned to his right, so we collided. Please tell me. You tell me if I was wrong.'
The bus driver turned the situation over in his mind. Meanwhile, they glided upon the boulevard, having already reached the spot where the divided street began. The scenery floated by.
'You had three choices,' the man said calmly in a moment. 'You could turn right, supposed to be proper . . . and take a chance on the ditch. Pretty sure to be dangerous. You could stay where you were because you are legal . . . and take the chance the other fella's going to correct himself and turn off in time. That takes cold nerve and an awful lot of stubborn righteousness. Or, you can turn left as you did and figure to get around him on the clear side . . . even though it's the wrong side ... of the road. Hey?'
'It seemed clear . . .'
'Was it?'
'Well, yes, actually it was clear. You see, I thought ... I thought he might be confused and think he was on his right side. I didn't know he'd turn off. How could I know that?'
