"Can't—can't anything be done?" she asked desperately.
"It's either the hospital or paying the broker."
"How much is it?"
"Twenty-nine pounds sixteen."
"That's easily got," remarked Mavis. "At once?" asked Mrs Trivett, as her worn face brightened.
"I don't suppose I could get it till the morrow. It would be then too late?"
"But if you're sure of getting it, something might be arranged."
"Would the man take my word?"
"No. But he might know someone who would lend the money in a way that would be convenient."
"See him at once. Find out if anything can be done," urged the distracted mother.