“What a lot,” he commented.
“Seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, and I am now penniless. I shan’t even get credit with Heaven. She’ll appropriate that.”
Christopher ran off with it and meeting Nevil on the stairs gave it into his hand. Renata had gone to dress, and Nevil sauntered in to his wife with her “spoils” at once.
“Seven pounds, four and sixpence,” she said gleefully. “For the crêche fund. It was nice of Aymer. I had not meant to worry him to-day, but he wanted distraction.”
“I thought Vespasian kept his money. Six pounds four and sixpence, Renata,” Nevil remarked, counting the money carelessly. She came over to him, brush in hand.
“You can’t even do addition. Nothing but dates! I counted it most carefully, so did Aymer.”
“Then he’s defrauded you of a pound since.” 71
“Nonsense.”
They counted it together, but no amount of reckoning would make seven sovereigns out of six. The silver was correct.
“It must have fallen down,” said Renata at last and put it away carefully in her desk.