"It's funny, isn't it?"

"When you're in the car--yes. It don't seem so
funny when you're on foot. Well, some people were made
to walk and some to ride. I had to hoof it at first.
I like riding better--don't you?"

"To be perfectly honest--yes!"

The car leaped forward again, the horn screaming.
The wheel passed within a foot of a fat woman's skirt.
With a cry of terror she fled to the sidewalk and shook
her fist at Jim, her face purple with anger.

He waved his hand back at her:

"Never touched you, dearie! Never touched you!"

Mary lost all fear of accident and watched him
handle the machine with the skill of a master. She
could understand now the spirit of deviltry in a
chauffeur who knows his business. It seemed a wicked,
cruel thing from the ground--this swift plunge of a car
as if bent on murder. But now that she felt the sure,
velvet grip of the brake in a master's hand, she saw
that the danger was largely a myth.

It was fun to see people jump at the approach of an
avalanche of steel that always stopped just short of