Stave Three
“This is where you get off Mr. Scrooge,” the driver said politely. They had parked at the side of a main avenue, nowhere near Scrooge’s home.
“But why?”
“Another driver will take you from here. He’ll be around any second now.”
Scrooge got off and stood in the sidewalk. Cars wheezed past in moderate speed, not so slow like the central Athens roads but not faster than the highway.
The cold was bearable now, even though it must have been a few degrees lower since he got in the taxi. He had absorbed enough heat to make him soldier on the short wait. The Mercedes went back into the road and disappeared into the traffic.
Another taxi came and stopped beside him. It was a modern model, smaller, nothing like the vintage Mercedes. This was short, easy to steer, easy to park. Sleek
