"No, no, I'm going. Don't let's talk of it, let's talk of something pleasant." She opened her purse, turned its meagre contents into her lap, and examined some bills that were stuffed into a side compartment.
"What's two-and-six, and three shillings, and eighteen pence?"
"Eight shillings, I think," answered Leavesley after a moment's thought.
"Then I've lost a shilling," pouted Miss Lambert, counting her money, replacing it, and closing the purse with a snap. "No matter, let's think of something pleasant. Isn't old Mr Verneede sweet?"
"Fanny," said Leavesley, ignoring the saccharine possibilities of Mr Verneede—"may I call you Fanny?"
"Of course, every one does. I say, is this cabman taking us right?"
"Yes, quite. What I was going to say," weakly and suddenly, "Fanny, let's go somewhere some day, and have a really good time."
"Where?"
"Up the river—anywhere."