Mike Gambit yawned expansively and took one hand off the wheel to gently shake the shoulder of the woman in the passenger seat. “Wake up, Purdey-girl. We’re almost there.”
Purdey, tucked against the car door with the sun turning her blonde hair golden, stirred and opened bleary bright blue eyes. “Already?” she managed thickly.
Gambit chuckled, despite being halfway through another yawn. “Already? Purdey, we’ve been driving for nearly four hours.”
Purdey sat up and rummaged in her purse for a compact, snapped it open, and began to smooth her hair. “We could have taken the train,” she pointed out.
“We could have,” Gambit agreed. “But Steed said we were going to need a way to get around town. I’d rather have my own car than take a cab everywhere.”
“I suppose asking the cabbie to wait at the site of a murder would be problematic, too,” Purdey said blithely. “And anyway, you’re so mean you’d never pay the fares.”
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