"What have we done to you?" the Nun inquired with sedate anxiety.
"I've got to work, and I can't do it in London. I've got a career to look after."
The Nun gurgled again—for the second time only in the course of the evening. "Oh yes," she murmured with obvious scepticism. "Well, come and see me when you get back." She turned her eyes to Andy, and, to his great astonishment, asked, "Would you like to come too?"
Andy could hardly believe that he was himself, but he had no doubt about his answer. The Nun interested him very much, and was so very pretty. "I should like to awfully," he replied.
"Come alone—not with these men, or we shall only talk nonsense," said the Nun, as she got into her brougham. "Get in, Sally."
"Where's the hurry?" asked Miss Dutton, getting in nevertheless. The Nun slapped her arm smartly; the two girls burst into a giggle, and so went off.
"Where to now?" asked Harry.
Andy wondered what other place there was.
"Bed for me," said Billy Foot. "I've a consultation at half-past nine, and I haven't opened the papers yet."
"Bed is best," Harry agreed, though rather reluctantly. "Going to take a cab, Billy?"