"Yes, you go round and talk to Gilly," agreed Billy. "Rotting apart, he's got a nice little business, and one or two very good schemes on, but he wants a bit more capital, as well as somebody to help him. He doesn't look clever, but in five years he's built up—yes, a tidy little business. You wouldn't come to grief with Gilly."
"But I haven't got the money, or anything like it. I've got nothing."
The Nun and Billy exchanged glances. The Nun nodded to Billy, but he shook his head. Miss Dutton watched them for a moment, then she smiled scornfully.
"I don't mind saying it," she observed, and to Andy's astonishment she asked him, "What about your old friend the butcher?"
"How did you hear of that?"
"Harry Belfield was up one day last week lunching here, and—"
"We were awfully amused," the Nun interrupted, with her pretty rare gurgle. "If you'd done it, we were all coming down to buy chops and give you a splendid send-off. I rather wish you had." The imagined scene amused the Nun very much.
"Jack Rock? Oh, I couldn't possibly ask him, after refusing his offer!"
"What did you say his name was?" the Nun inquired.
Andy repeated the name, and the Nun nodded, smiling still. Andy became portentously thoughtful.