Along the Coast Highway, a pair of lights were bearing down on me, and
they seemed to waver, as though the machine were under imperfect
control.

I moved back, out of the way, and the light overhead turned to red. The
car stopped about even with me, its motor running.

I couldn't see the occupants nor the driver. The light changed, the car
jerked, and the motor stopped.

"Damn," somebody said. It was a female voice.

There was a grinding noise, and another damn, and then a head appeared
through the open window on my side of the road.

It was a blond head, and what I could see of the face looked attractive.

"Are you sober?" she asked.

"Not always," I answered. "Some times I'm quite cheerful. But I'm some
distance from home, and have nothing to be cheerful about, at the
moment."

"Try not to be a Cerf," she said angrily. "What I mean is, are you--have
you been drinking?"

"Not recently, though I could use some water." I could see her face more
clearly now, and it was like the faces of our women, only prettier than
most, I thought.

[Illustration: _I could see her face more clearly now, and it was like
the faces of our women, only prettier than most, I thought._]

"Look," she said, "I'm drunk. Could you drive this thing? Could you
drive me home?"

"I'd be glad to," I answered, "if you will tell me where you live."

She gave me an address on Sunset, and this was Sunset, this lateral
street, ending at the ocean. So, quite obviously, it was an address I
could find.

I went over to climb in behind the wheel. There were two smells in that
pretty car with the canvas top. One smell was of gasoline, the other was
of alcohol.

"There's obviously alcohol in the gasoline," I said, "though that
shouldn't prevent it from igniting."

"A funny, funny man," she said. "Keep the dialogue to a minimum, will
you, Bogart? I'm not exactly sharp, right now."

I depressed the starter button, and the motor caught. I swung left onto
Sunset, and started up the hill.

The car was clearly a recent model, but Jars had been wrong about the
mechanical excellence of these huddlers. The machine simply had no life,
no zest.

* * * * *

We drove past a shrine and around two curves, climbing all the while,
past some huddled houses on the left, and the whole shining sea spread
out on the right.

The woman said, "If you know a place where the coffee is drinkable,
stop."

"I have no money," I said.