“You must be cracked,” she gasped, startled out of her temper, but she went into the bedroom and changed into the clothes he had bought her.
When Little Ernie returned, he told them that he had a flat for them.
“How much?” George asked, staring with hot, intent eyes at the little man.
“Don’t worry about that,” Ernie said, shooting a quick glance at Cora. “You’re my pal…”
George walked over to him and caught him by his coat front.
“I ask no favours from you,” he said between his teeth. “And listen, I don’t like the way you look at Cora. She’s my girl. If you try anything with her, I’ll kill you. I shan’t warn you again.”
And Little Ernie, looking into the brooding eyes, suddenly went cold.
The flat that Little Ernie rented them was on the top floor of a block of offices in Holles Street, off Oxford Street. It was secluded and, after business hours, as lonely as a shepherd’s but on a Welsh mountain. It was vacant only because it was some distance from the usual haunts of the street-prowlers.
George liked the place. It was his first proper home, and tie took pride in it. He did everything in the house, including the cooking
Cora, still in two minds as to whether she should stay or not, was influenced by the money that George had so suddenly acquired. She could ask him for anything and she got it. At first, it was clothes, and then it was jewellery. She was already brooding about a car; but she hadn’t quite made up her mind what kind of a car to have.