“Nonsense! I don't believe you. What have you to do?”
“I have some cheques to write.”
“That won't take you a moment. You can do that at my place.”
“I couldn't, I assure you. I must have my books and my own pen. I wouldn't write a cheque in that way for worlds.”
“Why not? We'll go to a music-hall afterwards.”
“I am very sorry, but I really couldn't—not to-night.”
“You never go in for amusing yourself.”
“Yes, I do; but what amuses you doesn't amuse me. I assure you I would sooner stay at home, write my cheques, and enter them carefully, than go to a music-hall.”
Frank looked at Willy for a moment in mute amazement. Then he said: “But what's that you have under your arm in that brown paper parcel?”
Willy laughed. “A leg of mutton; I have just been to the stores.”