“The idea of⁠—er⁠—pledging the pearls at the local Mont de Piété was, you will readily understand, repugnant to us,” said the brother.

“If you will just give me a receipt, as a matter of form⁠—”

“Oh, right-o!”

I wrote out the receipt and handed it over, feeling more or less of an ass.

“Here you are,” I said.

The girl took the piece of paper, shoved it in her bag, grabbed the money and slipped it to brother Sidney, and then, before I knew what was happening, she had darted at me, kissed me, and legged it from the room.