"Rot, Doris," commented Miss Dutton. "It's what they're wearing."
"But they aren't all as fat as that," the Nun objected.
"Flourishing, Hayes?" asked Billy Foot.
"Well, I rather think I've just lost my job," said Andy.
"If you're looking out for a really sound way of investing five thousand pounds—" Gilly began.
"Four to a gentleman," said Billy.
"Three to a friend," corrected the Nun.
"Oh, what the devil's the good of trying to talk business here?" cried Gilly in vexation. "Only a chance is a chance, you know."
Billy Foot saw that Andy was puzzled. "Gilly—my brother, you know—I suppose I introduced you?—has unfortunately come here with a problem on his mind. I didn't know he had one, or I wouldn't have asked him, because problems bore the girls."
"No, they don't. It interests me to see you trying to think." This, of course, from Miss Dutton. The Nun, now imbibing an iced green fluid through a straw, was sublimely abstracted.