So the next time I did. But not, as she might have expected, in a scene of soft lights and music. Rather, when she proved that she was not one of the screechy girls I detested. The streets were icy. Perhaps I was driving a bit too fast. A major intersection as the lights changed against us—and a sheet of ice. We slid helplessly into the traffic. Buses thundered down upon us. Cars all but reared up on their hind wheels to avoid us. I snapped a glance at Davy. She caught it and grinned. I grinned happily back. We came gently up against the diagonally opposite kerb. A policeman with an
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