“I’ve got you some clothes,” George said, showing her the bundle. Now he was in the light he saw that Babs had put the clothes in a pillowcase.
“Are you mad?” she said blankly. “What clothes?”
“You wanted an outfit,” George said patiently. “I—I’ve got you one.”
Cora sat up in bed. “You’ve got me one?” she repeated.
It was just as George had hoped it would be. He had staggered her. She was excited. She had never looked at him like this before.
He nodded. “I said you had only to ask and I’d get it for you.”
“But how?” Cora demanded. “Don’t stand there like a dummy. Come in, shut the door.” She slid out of bed, now thoroughly awake and excited. “How did you do it?”
This was George’s moment. This was the sweetest moment in George’s life.
“Well, it wanted a bit of thinking out,” he said, coming into the room and shutting the door. “I couldn’t rob a store. I hadn’t any money. So I decided to take the clothes off someone about your size.”
Cora gaped at him—actually gaped at him! “You didn’t!” she exclaimed. George nodded. Tears of elation pricked his eyes. “I had to pinch a taxi. That wasn’t too easy, and then I cruised around the West End until I spotted a well-dressed girl. I offered her a lift. She lived in Hampstead somewhere and—and I took her up on the Heath and made her take her clothes off and—well, here I am.”