"Surely," she gasped, "there's some mistake?"
Alf glowed; when Isobel had taken his "little something" so casually he had for one moment been afraid that his coup had failed—that in spite of his increasing confidence in Eustace's powers, he had not been "wholesale" enough; he was thankful to find that this was not so.
"Quite all right, miss," he said jauntily.
"But—but they are thousand-pound notes! I can't—I really can't allow...."
Allen opened his eyes wide in astonishment.
"If you please, miss," said Alf earnestly, "I shall be most honored if you'll 'ang on to—I should say keep—the 'ole lot."
Isobel, looking slightly dazed, went through the notes in her hand. There were ten notes, each for a thousand pounds. She laid them on the table beside her.
"Thank you very much indeed, Mr. Wentworth," she said, "but really, it's quite impossible...."
"I can spare it easy. It's nothing to me, I give you my word. If you'd just take it to oblige me, like, I shall be much obliged. I shall really."
"But I don't understand why you should want to do this."