touted round. I've
answered advertisements. I've tried every mortal blessed thing. I've
screwed and saved and pinched! But it's no good. I shall have to go
home!"

"Don't you want to?"

"Of course I don't want to! What's the good of being sentimental?
Father's a dear--I'm awfully fond of him--but you've no idea how I worry
him! He has that delightful early Victorian view that short skirts and
smoking are immoral. You can imagine what a thorn in the flesh I am to
him! He just heaved a sigh of relief when the war took me off. You see,
there are seven of us at home. It's awful! All housework and mothers'
meetings! I have always been the changeling. I don't want to go back,
but--oh, Tommy, what else is there to do?"

Tommy shook his head sadly. There was a silence, and then Tuppence burst
out:

"Money, money, money! I think about money morning, noon and night! I
dare say it's mercenary of me, but there it is!"

"Same here," agreed Tommy with feeling.

"I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too," continued
Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, to marry it, or to make
it. First is ruled out. I haven't got any rich elderly relatives. Any
relatives I have are in homes for decayed gentlewomen! I always help old
ladies over crossings, and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case
they should turn out to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them
has ever asked me my name--and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.'"

There was a pause.

"Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. I made up my
mind to marry money when I was quite young. Any thinking girl would!
I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused. "Come now, you can't say I'm
sentimental," she added sharply.

"Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever think of
sentiment in connection with you."

"That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say you mean it
all right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing--but I never meet
any rich men! All the boys I know are about as hard up as I am."

"What about the general?" inquired Tommy.

"I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explained Tuppence.
"No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl."

"I'm like you. I don't know any."

"That doesn't matter. You can always get to know one. Now, if I see a
man in a fur coat come out of the Ritz I can't rush up to him and say:
'Look here, you're rich. I'd like to know you.'"

"Do you sug