"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" I squeezed through the crack and stood leaning my back against the car. The air touched my face with welcome coolness. "What the hell do you mean careening around and bashing people? Don't you know drunks on wheels are worse than thieves? And I hate thieves!" The front wheel looked bent to me, which meant expense and delay. I don't know which exasperated me the most.
I realized she was merely standing there, with her eyes on me, and there was a light of humor in them, of amusement at the situation rather than at me, or solely at me though she knew well that I could have struck her into the fence and sent her bouncing. I was tensed to do it. But something in her eyes halted me, or else my head was clearing and my heart slowing for I cast about for that despicable truck but it was nowhere to be seen. Nor was any other vehicle. I set my eyes on her again. "It wasn't you."