Musette, who had been listening to him with the same half-grave, half-smiling expression on her face, got up from her chair and crossed the room to a small satin-wood writing-table in the corner. She opened the drawer and took out something.
"Is this your cheque, Tony?" she asked, handing him a small slip of pink paper.
Tony looked at it in bewilderment.
"I don't understand," he said.
Musette sat down and folded her hands.
"Murray brought it to me, instead of paying it into the bank. I thought if you asked me to marry you I'd give it you back as a good-bye present." She paused. "As you haven't done so, Tony," she added, "I think I shall have to cash it."
Tony dropped the cheque on the table.
"I don't understand," he repeated helplessly.
"My father's real name," said Musette, "was Morris."
Tony stared at her.