Mrs. Buss’s eyes were so well opened that she put on her bonnet, went round to a local builder’s, and, telling him a few harmless fibs, persuaded him to buy the studio and its stove for thirteen pounds ten. The builder confessed, directly they had completed the bargain, that the studio was the very thing a customer of his wanted. He said he would look round next day and see the building, and that if he found it all right, he would hand over the money. He came, saw, and found nothing to grumble at, and before the day was out he had resold the studio for twenty pounds, stating blandly that it had originally cost thirty-five pounds, and that it was almost new, and that the gentleman had got a bargain.
Mrs. Buss brought the money to Eve, one five pound note, eight sovereigns, and ten shillings in silver, and Eve handed over four pounds, and the commission.
“We can settle for any odds and ends when I go.”
“Thank you, miss. I may say you have treated me very fairly, miss. And would you mind if I put up a card in the window?”
“No.”
“You see, it’s part of my living. If one loses a week or two, it’s serious.”
“Of course.”
So a card with “Apartments” printed on it went up in Eve’s window, helping her to realise that the term of her sojourn in Bosnia Road was drawing to a close.