“Did you?”
“Yes. What is there to be surprised at in that we did?”
“Ah! you’d be surprised if you knew all.”
“But I don’t know all; in point of fact, I know nothing as yet. Certainly not from you.”
“No, that is true enough.”
“Why, Bill, what’s the matter with you? You don’t appear to me to be a bit like yourself. Keep your pecker up, old man. There’s nothing so very dreadful in receiving two tenners from a pretty woman—is there?”
“Oh, dear me, no, nothing at all; but I am surprised, never expected she would come here or give a thought about me—never expected it—and don’t deserve it. I think I’ll send them back.”
“Don’t be a fool. Send them back! Why you must be off your head to think of such a thing. Send back the flimsies—well that’s beyond a joke.”
Bill Rawton made no reply—he seemed to be at a loss to determine his course of action, and remained for some time silent and thoughtful.
“I say again, you’re a star; I can’t make you out,” observed his companion.