"I've thought over every imaginable way of getting it too,"
continued Tuppence. "There are only three! To be left it, to
marry it, or to make it. First is ruled out. I haven't got any
rich elderly relatives. Any relatives I have are in homes for
decayed gentlewomen! I always help old ladies over crossings,
and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turn
out to be eccentric millionaires. But not one of them has ever
asked me my name--and quite a lot never said 'Thank you.' "

There was a pause.

"Of course," resumed Tuppence, "marriage is my best chance. I
made up my mind to marry money when I was quite young. Any
thinking girl would! I'm not sentimental, you know." She paused.
"Come now, you can't say I'm sentimental," she added sharply.

"Certainly not," agreed Tommy hastily. "No one would ever think
of sentiment in connection with you."

"That's not very polite," replied Tuppence. "But I dare say you
mean it all right. Well, there it is! I'm ready and willing--but
I never meet any rich men! All the boys I know are about as hard
up as I am."

"What about the general?" inquired Tommy.

"I fancy he keeps a bicycle shop in time of peace," explained
Tuppence. "No, there it is! Now you could marry a rich girl."

"I'm like you. I don't know any."