"Oh, Tommy!"

"No, old thing, not in riotous dissipation.  No such luck! The
cost of living--ordinary plain, or garden living nowadays is, I
assure you, if you do not know----"

"My dear child," interrupted Tuppence, "there is nothing I do NOT
know about the cost of living.  Here we are at Lyons', and we
will each of us pay for our own.  That's it!" And Tuppence led
the way upstairs.

The place was full, and they wandered about looking for a table,
catching odds and ends of conversation as they did so.

"And--do you know, she sat down and CRIED when I told her she
couldn't have the flat after all."  "It was simply a BARGAIN, my
dear! Just like the one Mabel Lewis brought from Paris----"

"Funny scraps one does overhear," murmured Tommy.  "I passed two
Johnnies in the street to-day talking about some one called Jane
Finn.  Did you ever hear such a name?"

But at that moment two elderly ladies rose and collected parcels,
and Tuppence deftly ensconced herself in one of the vacant seats.

Tommy ordered tea and buns.  Tuppence ordered tea and buttered
toast.

"And mind the tea comes in separate teapots," she added severely.

Tommy sat down opposite her.  His bared head revealed a shock of
exquisitely slicked-back red hair.  His face was pleasantly
ugly--nondescript, yet unmistakably the face of a gentleman and a
sportsman. His brown suit was well cut, but perilously near the
end of its tether.

They were an essentially modern-looking couple as they sat there.
Tuppence had no claim to beauty, but there was character and
charm in the elfin lines of her little face, with its determined
chin and large, wide-apart grey eyes that looked mistily out from
under straight, black brows.  She wore a small bright green toque
over her black bobbed hair, and her extremely short and rather
shabby skirt revealed a pair of uncommonly dainty ankles. Her
appearance presented a valiant attempt at smartness.

The tea came at last, and Tuppence, rousing herself from a fit of
meditation, poured it out.

"Now then," said Tommy, taking a large bite of bun, "let's get
up-to-date. Remember, I haven't seen you since that time in
hospital in 1916."

"Very well."  Tuppence helped herself liberally to buttered
toast. "Abridged biography of Miss Prudence Cowley, fifth
daughter of Archdeacon Cowley of Little Missendell, Suffolk. 
Miss Cowley left the delights (and drudgeries) of her home life
early in the war and came up to London, where she entered an
officers' hospital. First month:  Washed up six hundred and
forty-eight plates every day. Second month:  Promoted to drying
aforesaid plates. Third month:  Promoted to peeling potatoes. 
Fourth month: Promoted to cutting bread and butter.  Fifth month:
Promoted one floor up to duties of wardmaid with mop and pail.
Sixth month:  Promoted to waiting at table.  Seventh month:
Pleasing appearance and nice manners so striking that am promoted
to waiting on the Sisters!  Eighth month: Slight check in career. 
Sister Bond ate Sister Westhaven's egg! Grand row!  Wardmaid
clearly to blame!  Inattention in such important matters cannot
be too highly censured. Mop and pail again!  How are the mighty
fallen!  Ninth month: Promoted to sweeping out wards, where I
found a friend of my childhood in Lieutenant Thomas Beresford
(bow, Tommy!), whom I had not seen for five long years.  The
meeting was affecting! Tenth month:  Reproved by matron for
visiting the pictures in company with one of the patients,
namely:  the aforementioned Lieutenant Thomas Beresford. 
Eleventh and twelfth months: Parlourmaid duties resumed with
entire success.  At the end of the year left hospital in a blaze
of glory.  After that, the talented Miss Cowley drove
successively a trade delivery van, a motor-lorry and a general!
The last was the pleasantest. He was quite a young general!"

"What brighter was that?" inquired Tommy.  "Perfectly sickening
the way those brass hats drove from the War Office to the Savoy,
and from the Savoy to the War Office!"

"I've forgotten his name now," confessed Tuppence.  "To resume,
that was in a way the apex of my career.  I next entered a
Government office. We had several very enjoyable tea parties.  I
had intended to become a land girl, a postwoman, and a bus
conductress by way of rounding off my career--but the Armistice
intervened!  I clung to the office with the true limpet touch for
many long months, but, alas, I was combed out at last. Since then
I've been looking for a job.  Now then--your turn."

"There's not so much promotion in mine," said Tommy regretfully,
"and a great deal less variety.  I went out to France again, as
you know.  Then they sent me to Mesopotamia, and I got wounded
for the second time, and went into hospital out there. Then I got
stuck in Egypt till the Armistice happened, kicked my heels there
some time longer, and, as I told you, finally got demobbed. And,