“I was busy. After all, it only requires one person to take a flat. There, that’s the address. Fix up moving in as soon as you can.”
Eve picked up the slip of paper he had dropped into her lap. Despite her disappointment she felt a thrill of excitement at the news:
“How many rooms are there?”
“Oh, four or five—a bedroom for each of us—I forget the number. Have a look at it in the morning.”
“We shall want carpets and some more furniture.”
“Yes, but that can wait—can’t it?”
Take away the joy of planning from a woman and you rob the safe of half its treasure.
IX
There was no room in Wynne’s mind for further discussion. It was fully occupied with his great advertisement scheme, which, in a few days’ time, would fling his name upon every newspaper and hoarding in the metropolis. He had no intention of allowing his share in the production to lack prominence. The name Wynne Rendall was to take precedence of all other consideration in his campaign.
“The public is to take this play through me,” he announced, “and me they shall have in large doses.”