But now, fortunately for both of them, Alf, full of determination not to let slip this golden opportunity of impressing his lady, bustled out of the room to summon the much-enduring Eustace and explain to him the nature and functions of paper currency. Allen and Isobel, watching his departure anxiously, just managed to preserve their self-control until he had gone; but then the floods of laughter burst forth irresistibly. They wallowed breathlessly, feebly wiping their streaming eyes. After a time Isobel managed to pull herself partially together and to sit up; but the sight and sound of Allen, who was at full length on a sofa gasping like a fish and quaking like a jelly, set her off again. It was a shameless spectacle. But by the time Alf came back two weak but happy people were gravely examining the decorations, and were even far enough recovered to be able to congratulate their host on his taste without a quiver. "You have been in the East, I suppose, Mr. Wentworth?" asked Isobel. "I went to Yarmouth once," said Alf. "Ah, yes. But I mean the Orient. Egypt--Persia--India." "Oh!" Alf caught the allusion and began to fidget. The conversation seemed to be taking an awkward turn. "You mean this 'ere?" he asked, waving a comprehensive hand about him. "I can't say as I've ever been in them parts meself like, but them as did the 'ouse up for me comes from there. I 'ad it brought over regardless. Only they didn't 'ave much furniture, an' no pictures, so I 'ad to order them meself. That's a nice thing, now." He pointed to a glaring lithograph depicting a dog of no known breed being mauled by a small child apparently in the advanced stages of scarlet fever. It was called "Happy Playmates." "Always been fond o' that from a boy, I 'ave," he said. "Very nice," agreed Isobel gravely. "What do you think, Denis?" She slipped a hand inside his arm and gave it a delighted little squeeze. "Charming!" His voice shook ever so little, but he had completely regained control of his expression. Alf judged that the time had arrived to bring his heavy batteries into action. He produced from his pockets a little bundle of notes, and handed them to Isobel. "There, miss," he said in admirably casual tones, "a little something for your 'orsepital." "Thank you _so_ much," said Isobel, smiling at him. "It's _most_ kind of you. Denis, would you ...?" She glanced at the packet in her hand, and her voice trailed away in speechless surprise. Then she offered the notes back to Alf. "Surely," she gasped, "there's some mistake?" Alf glowed; when Isobel had taken his "little something" so casually he had for one moment been afraid that his _coup_ had failed--that in spite of his increasing confidence in Eustace's powers, he had not been "wholesale" enough; he was thankful to find that this was not so. "Quite all right, miss," he said jauntily. "But--but they are thousand-pound notes! I can't--I really can't allow...." Allen opened his eyes wide in astonishment.