Why don’t you tell me that “if the girl had been worth having, she’d have waited for you?” No, sir, the girl really worth having won’t wait for anybody.
Ida Arnold broke her way across the Strand; she couldn’t be bothered to wait for the signals, and she didn’t trust the Belisha beacons. She made her own way under the radiators of the buses; the drivers ground their brakes and glared at her, and she grinned back at them. She was always a little flushed as the clock struck eleven and she reached Henneky’s, as if she had emerged from some adventure which had given her a better opinion of herself.
Brighton Rock, Graham Greene