"
"Nothing like looking in the right place for a thing when you've
finished looking in the others," observed Mrs. Postwhistle.
"What do you mean?" demanded Jack.
"Just what I say," answered Mrs. Postwhistle.
Jack Herring looked at Mrs. Postwhistle. But Mrs. Postwhistle's
face was not of the expressive order.
"Post office still going strong?" asked Jack Herring.
"The post office 'as been a great 'elp to me," admitted Mrs.
Postwhistle; "and I'm not forgetting that I owe it to you."
"Don't mention it," murmured Jack Herring.
They brought her presents--nothing very expensive, more as tokens
of regard: dainty packets of sweets, nosegays of simple flowers,
bottles of scent. To Somerville "Miss Bulstrode" hinted that if he
really did desire to please her, and wasn't merely talking through
his hat--Miss Bulstrode apologised for the slang, which, she
feared, she must have picked up from her brother--he might give her
a box of Messani's cigarettes, size No. 2. The suggestion pained
him. Somerville the Briefless was perhaps old-fashioned. Miss
Bulstrode cut him short by agreeing that he was, and seemed
disinclined for further conversation.
They took her to Madame Tussaud's. They took her up the Monument.
They took her to the Tower of London.
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