Crisp, who seemed to understand the look, said:
“You might as well tell it if you get paid for it.”
“What will you give me?” said Meg.
“I will pay you according to the amount of information I receive.”
“Go on,” she said, seating herself and lighting an old, blackened clay pipe.
“I wish you first to tell me when you think of leaving the city.”
“I don’t know that part,” she said, turning uneasily around.
“You certainly have some idea of the time.”
“I s’pose when the weather is warmer.”
“Where are you going?”