“Then I really did not give you the seven and sixpence,” she said, relieved.
“What is your own opinion?” he answered, taking three pennies from his pocket, jingling them in his palm. “What is your name?”
“I shall not tell you,” said Agatha with dignity.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I would not tell you mine if you asked me.”
“I have not the slightest intention of asking you.”
“No? Then Smilash shall do for you, and Agatha will do for me.”
“You had better take care.”
“Of what?”
“Of what you say, and—are you not afraid of being found out?”
“I am found out already—by you, and I am none the worse.”