“Go on!” said Bobbie, recklessly. “All of you manage my affairs! Don’t mind me! I’ll sit back and not do nothing.”
“My excuse must be that we have met before. My name is Myddleton West, and I was at an inquest once—”
“I remember,” said the boy.
“Is the lady who has just gone engaged to you, may I ask?”
“No fear,” said Bobbie, disdainfully. “She’s a bit gone on me, that’s all. Perfect nuisance it is, if you ask me.”
“This,” said Myddleton West, “shows how awkward Providence is. With some of us the case is exactly the reverse.”
“You’re a lump better off without ’em,” said the boy sagely.
“I only want one.”
“And one,” said Bobbie, “is sometimes one too many. What are you doing in this quarter? Thought you lived ’Olborn way.”
“I want the police station in Kingsland Road,” said the journalist. “I have to see the inspector about something. Do you know it?”