“You decide for us,” said Pauline, smiling and reddening under Ilam’s appreciation.
“We’ll begin at once, eh?” said Ilam. “Tonight.”
“Oh, that’s quite out of the question,” objected Rosie. “We shall be obliged to give a month’s notice at Shooter’s.”
“Nonsense!” said Ilam. “I’ll send ‘em a cheque for a month’s salary instead; then they can’t grumble.”
“But to-morrow? How will they manage without us?” persisted Rosie.
Ilam laughed—and it was not often that Ilam laughed. Either the humour of the thing must have appealed to him very strongly, or it was a symptom that his spirits had mightily improved.
“They’ll manage without you,” he said.
“It’s true they can get substitutes from the Typewriting Exchange,” said Pauline.
Thus, it was arranged that Pauline and Rosie should take one of the City automobiles to their flat, and return with trunks and boxes during the evening. Before leaving the bungalow Pauline wrote to Shooter’s informing them of the blow that had fallen on Shooter’s, and Ilam filled in a cheque, and Rosie put it in the envelope and fastened the envelope. The automobile, ordered by telephone, came round to the door.
“You’ll introduce us to Mr. Carpentaria, won’t you?” said Rosie smilingly, as she was getting into the carriage.