“I’m sending Dempsi a cheque by special messenger. He’s living in a little hotel in the Edgware Road.”
“He mentioned the money then?”
“He made a casual reference,” she said, “which my conscience probably magnified into a demand. Phew!” She fanned herself with her hand.
Bobbie locked away the remaining ten thousand dollars.
“I’ll see what I can do. May I telephone?”
She nodded.
“You may do anything you please except ask me to marry Dempsi,” she said wearily.
His first call was to his bank, and the conversation was not encouraging. Bobbie had just paid from his account heavy bills, and he was slightly overdrawn. To the suggestion that the overdraft should be increased, the manager turned an unsympathetic ear. And then, at the end of the third call, when Bobbie was in a condition of frenzy, Eleanor came in with a telegram, and the girl opened it quickly.
“Saved!” she whooped.
“What is it?” said Bobbie, snatching the form from her hand.