“And now,” he said, “shall we fetch your things?—and you can settle in comfortably.”
For answer Bulmore produced a pile of pawn-tickets and laid them on the table.
“That’s the lot,” he answered, “save what I stand up in.”
Eliphalet went through the tickets to see what most essentially should be redeemed.
“You’d like your ulster, eh?”
“It’s been a good friend to me—still, two pound ten, y’know.”
“Not another word,” said Eliphalet.
When they emerged from the pawn-shop Sefton Bulmore was clad in a fur-collared coat which, despite a shade of wear about the cuffs and elbows, was a garment any actor might be proud to wear.
“And now,” said Eliphalet, “we’ll make for home and have our first talk about the play.”
There was a note of disappointment in Bulmore’s acquiescence, that called for a querying eyebrow from Eliphalet.