“To be sure she would!” said the financier. “Lookye here—does your ladyship want a hundred or two?”
“Not to-morrow, dear Mr Elbraham; but my rents do not come in for another month, and I must confess to having been rather extravagant lately—I have had a great deal of company, and I thought I might—might—might—what do you call it?”
“Do a bill.”
“Yes, that’s it—do a bill,” said her ladyship, “if some kind friend would show me how.”
“It’s done,” said Elbraham. “What would you like—two-fifty?”
“Well, yes,” said her ladyship.
“Better make it three hundred—looks better,” said the financier.
“But you are not to advance the money, dear Mr Elbraham. I could not take it of you.”
“All right; I shan’t have anything to do with it. Someone in the City will send your ladyship a slip of paper to sign, and the cheque will come by the next post. I say, though, what did Clotilde say?”
“Oh, I daren’t tell you. Really, you know—pray don’t press me—I couldn’t confess. Dear Clotilde would be so angry if I betrayed her—dear girl! I could not do that, you know.”