CHAPTER XXVII. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. He jumped out of the car. " "Pshaw!" cried Thames. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. “So should you. Mrs. ’ Kimble nodded. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke.
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