She returned to the hotel. The Bearcat came in a few minutes later. He had his license, his taxi and was ready to begin his new work the next day. He did not know that Babe, too, was ready to begin her new job, or that she had been uptown seeing Jenny and the old crowd. They went out to dinner at a nearby restaurant and then took a walk in Central Park. And at ten o’clock, the Bearcat was in bed. Babe lay awake a long time, her mind busy with plans.

XIII “TAXI!”

THE NEXT day, the Bearcat began his life as a taxi driver. He commenced to get a close-up of human nature that had formerly been hidden from him through his preoccupation with the fight game and Babe.

He had many fares his first day, which impressed him because he hadn’t expected to be hailed by such an array of strangers. He picked up his third fare shortly before noon. It was a middle-aged woman, extremely well-dressed, with quite motherly features. As he drove her toward the address she had given him, she conversed with him.

“You taxi-drivers must have an interesting life,” she said. “You see so many different kinds of people. People always fascinate me. I like to imagine what they’re thinking about. Don’t you?” She leaned forward expectantly.

“Well, to tell you the truth, lady,” the Bearcat replied, “this is my first day as a taxi-driver. I can’t tell yet how interestin’ it’s goin’ to be.”

“Your first day?” she went on. “My, my—then you have a lot to learn. I notice you have a mirror up in front there. Can’t you see me? I can see you.”

“Yeah,” said the Bearcat, wondering what this was all about. “I can see you in it.”

“Well, you know,” she giggled, “experienced taxi-drivers remove their mirrors. Especially those that drive at night. I would advise you, if you drive at night, to take it down.”

“What for, lady?” the Bearcat inquired curiously.

“Well, because lovers who ride in cabs don’t like to have the driver watching them, you know.”

The Bearcat laughed.

“Gee, I never thought of that!” He thought about when he and Babe had ridden in cabs, and wondered if the drivers had watched them. He smiled at the idea.

“Cabs are often turned down on account of those mirrors,” the lady gushed on. “So this is your first day. Let me see if I can guess what you did before.” She leaned forward in her seat and looked at the Bearcat’s profile. “I think that you have been a prize-fighter.”

“That’s right,” the Bearcat said. “That’s what I was.”

The woman gave a little laugh.

“There—you see. I can read people. A prize-fighter. Oh, it must be marvelous to have such a wonderful physique.”

“What’s that?” the Bearcat inquired.