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The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table, `
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catching odds and ends of conversation as they did so. `
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"And--do you know, she sat down and CRIED when I told her she `
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couldn't have the flat after all." "It was simply a BARGAIN, my `
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dear! Just like the one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris----" `
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"Funny scraps one does overhear," murmured Tommy. "I passed two `
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Johnnies in the street to-day talking about some one called Jane `
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Finn. Did you ever hear such a name?" `
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But at that moment two elderly ladies rose and collected parcels, `
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and Tuppence deftly ensconced herself in one of the vacant seats. `
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Tommy ordered tea and buns. Tuppence ordered tea and buttered `
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toast. `
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"And mind the tea comes in separate teapots," she added severely. `
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Tommy sat down opposite her. His bared head revealed a shock of `
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exquisitely slicked-back red hair. His face was pleasantly `
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ugly--nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and a `
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sportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near the `
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end of its tether. `
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They were an essentially modern-looking couple as they sat there. `
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Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character and `
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charm in the elfin lines of her little face, with its determined `
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chin and large, wide-apart grey eyes that looked mistily out from `
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under straight, black brows. She wore a small bright green toque `
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over her black bobbed hair, and her extremely short and rather `
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shabby skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly dainty ankles. Her `
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appearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness. `
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The tea came at last, and Tuppence, rousing herself from a fit of `
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meditation, poured it out. `
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"Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's get `
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up-to-date. Remember, I haven't seen you since that time in `
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hospital in 1916." `
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"Very well." Tuppence helped herself liberally to buttered `
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toast. "Abridged biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifth `
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daughter of Archdeacon Cowley of Little Missendell, Suffolk. `
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Miss Cowley left the delights (and drudgeries) of her home life `
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early in the war and came up to London, where she entered an `
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officers' hospital. First month: Washed up six hundred and `
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forty-eight plates every day. Second month: Promoted to drying `
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aforesaid plates. Third month: Promoted to peeling potatoes. `
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Fourth month: Promoted to cutting bread and butter. Fifth month: `
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Promoted one floor up to duties of wardmaid with mop and pail. `
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Sixth month: Promoted to waiting at table. Seventh month: `
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Pleasing appearance and nice manners so striking that am promoted `
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to waiting on the Sisters! Eighth month: Slight check in career. `
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Sister Bond ate Sister Westhaven's egg! Grand row! Wardmaid `
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clearly to blame! Inattention in such important matters cannot `
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be too highly censured. Mop and pail again! How are the mighty `
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fallen! Ninth month: Promoted to sweeping out wards, where I `
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found a friend of my childhood in Lieutenant Thomas Beresford `
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(bow, Tommy!), whom I had not seen for five long years. The `
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meeting was affecting! Tenth month: Reproved by matron for `
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visiting the pictures in company with one of the patients, `
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namely: the aforementioned Lieutenant Thomas Beresford. `
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Eleventh and twelfth months: Parlourmaid duties resumed with `
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entire success. At the end of the year left hospital in a blaze `
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of glory. After that, the talented Miss Cowley drove `
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successively a trade delivery van, a motor-lorry and a general!" `
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The last was the pleasantest. He was quite a young general!" `
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"What brighter was that?" inquired Tommy. "Perfectly sickening `
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the way those brass hats drove from the War Office to the Savoy, `
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and from the Savoy to the War Office!" `
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"I've forgotten his name now," confessed Tuppence. "To resume, `
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that was in a way the apex of my career. I next entered a `
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Government office. We had several very enjoyable tea parties. I `
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had intended to become a land girl, a postwoman, and a bus `
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conductress by way of rounding off my career--but the Armistice `
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intervened! I clung to the office with the true limpet touch for `
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many long months, but, alas, I was combed out at last. Since then `
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I've been looking for a job. Now then--your turn." `
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"There's not so much promotion in mine," said Tommy regretfully, `
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"and a great deal less variety. I went out to France again, as `
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you know. Then they sent me to Mesopotamia, and I got wounded `
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for the second time, and went into hospital out there. Then I got `
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stuck in Egypt till the Armistice happened, kicked my heels there `
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some time longer, and, as I told you, finally got demobbed. And, `
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for ten long, weary months I've been job hunting! There aren't `
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any jobs! And, if there were, they wouldn't give 'em to me. What `
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good am I? What do I know about business? Nothing." `
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Tuppence nodded gloomily. `
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"What about the colonies?" she suggested. `
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Tommy shook his head. `
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"I shouldn't like the colonies--and I'm perfectly certain they `
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wouldn't like me!" `
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"Rich relations?" `
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Again Tommy shook his head. `
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"Oh, Tommy, not even a great-aunt?" `
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"I've got an old uncle who's more or less rolling, but he's no `
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good." `
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"Why not?" `
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"Wanted to adopt me once. I refused." `
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"I think I remember hearing about it," said Tuppence slowly. "You `
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refused because of your mother----" `
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Tommy flushed. `
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"Yes, it would have been a bit rough on the mater. As you know, `
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I was all she had. Old boy hated her--wanted to get me away from `
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her. Just a bit of spite." `
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"Your mother's dead, isn't she?" said Tuppence gently. `
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Tommy nodded. `
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Tuppence's large grey eyes looked misty. `
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"You're a good sort, Tommy. I always knew it." `
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"Rot!" said Tommy hastily. "Well, that's my position. I'm just `
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about desperate." `
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"So am I! I've hung out as long as I could. I've touted round. `
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I've answered advertisements. I've tried every mortal blessed `
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thing. I've screwed and saved and pinched! But it's no good. I `
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shall have to go home!" `
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"Don't you want to?" `
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"Of course I don't want to! What's the good of being `
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sentimental? Father's a dear--I'm awfully fond of him--but you've `
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no idea how I worry him! He has that delightful early Victorian `
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view that short skirts and smoking are immoral. You can imagine `
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what a thorn in the flesh I am to him! He just heaved a sigh of `
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relief when the war took me off. You see, there are seven of us `
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at home. It's awful! All housework and mothers' meetings! I `
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have always been the changeling. I don't want to go back, `
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but--oh, Tommy, what else is there to do?" `
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Tommy shook his head sadly. There was a silence, and then `
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Tuppence burst out: `
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"Money, money, money! I think about money morning, noon and `
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night! I dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!" `
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"Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling. `
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"I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too," `
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continued Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, to `
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marry it, or to make it. First is ruled out. I haven't got any `
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rich elderly relatives. Any relatives I have are in homes for `
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decayed gentlewomen! I always help old ladies over crossings, `
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and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turn `
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out to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them has ever `
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asked me my name--and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.' " `
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There was a pause. `
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"Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. I `
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made up my mind to marry money when I was quite young. Any `
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thinking girl would! I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused. `
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"Come now, you can't say I'm sentimental," she added sharply. `
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"Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever think `
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of sentiment in connection with you." `
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"That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say you `
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mean it all right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing--but `
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I never meet any rich men! All the boys I know are about as hard `
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up as I am." `
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"What about the general?" inquired Tommy. `
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"I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explained `
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Tuppence. "No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl." `
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"I'm like you. I don't know any." `
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"That doesn't matter. You can always get to know one. Now, if I `
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see a man in a fur coat come out of the Ritz I can't rush up to `
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him and say: 'Look here, you're rich. I'd like to know you.' " `
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"Do you suggest that I should do that to a similarly garbed `
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female?" `
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"Don't be silly. You tread on her foot, or pick up her `
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handkerchief, or something like that. If she thinks you want to `
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know her she's flattered, and will manage it for you somehow." `
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