“Where did you get them from?”
“That boy, Jimmy Faulkener. Marguerite Laidlaw gave them to him to put on a horse for her. I said I wanted small notes, and gave him a tenner in exchange.”
“All new and crisp,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “They can’t have passed through many hands. I suppose young Faulkener is all right?”
“Jimmy? Oh! he’s a dear. He and I are becoming great friends.”
“So I have noticed,” said Tommy coldly. “Do you really think it is necessary?”
“Oh! it isn’t business,” said Tuppence cheerily. “It’s pleasure. He’s such a nice boy. I’m glad to get him out of that woman’s clutches. You’ve no idea of the amount of money she’s cost him.”
“It looks to me as though he were getting rather a pash for you, Tuppence.”
“I’ve thought the same myself sometimes. It’s nice to know one’s still young and attractive, isn’t it?”
“Your moral tone, Tuppence, is deplorably low. You look at these things from the wrong point of view.”
“I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for years,” declared Tuppence shamelessly. “And anyway, what about you? Do I ever see you nowadays? Aren’t you always living in Marguerite Laidlaw’s pocket?”
“Business,” said Tommy crisply.
“But she is attractive, isn’t she?”
“Not my type,” said Tommy. “I don’t admire her.”