We stood there. I could visualize the wreckage of an old gray coupe in the middle of a street, but I couldn't visualize the driver. That was all right. I didn't want to see him. I didn't know what Julia was thinking. She said, "About those bags," and looked at me. The officer said, "Yes, miss?" "I--I don't care about mine. I didn't have much of anything in it." "I feel the same way," I said. "Would it be all right if we didn't bother to report it?" "Well," the policeman said, "I can't _make_ you report it." "I'd rather not then," Julia said. She turned to me. "I'd like some air. Can't we walk a little?" "Sure," I said. We started down the street, her arm in mine, as the air began to fill with the distant sounds of sirens. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Red Bag, by Jerry Sohl