Tommy chuckled.
“I should think I did! Wasn’t the old cat in a rage when she found out? Not that she was a bad sort really, old Mother Greenbank! Good old hospital—demobbed like everything else, I suppose?”
Tuppence sighed.
“Yes. You too?”
Tommy nodded.
“Two months ago.”
“Gratuity?” hinted Tuppence.
“Spent.”
“Oh, Tommy!”
“No, old thing, not in riotous dissipation. No such luck! The cost of living—ordinary plain, or garden living nowadays is, I assure you, if you do not know—”
“My dear child,” interrupted Tuppence, “there is nothing I do not know about the cost of living. Here we are at Lyons’, and we will each of us pay for our own. That’s it!” And Tuppence led the way upstairs.
The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table, catching odds and ends of conversation as they did so.
“And—do you know, she sat down and cried when I told her she couldn’t have the flat after all.” “It was simply a bargain , my dear! Just like the one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris—”
“Funny scraps one does overhear,” murmured Tommy. “I passed two Johnnies in the street today talking about someone called Jane Finn. Did