Tuppence eyed him warily.
"And the nature of the work?" she demanded.
"Nominal—purely nominal. A pleasant trip, that is all."
"Where to?"
Mr. Whittington smiled again.
"Paris."
"Oh!" said Tuppence thoughtfully. To herself she said: "Of course, if father heard that he would have a fit! But somehow I don't see Mr. Whittington in the role of the gay deceiver."
"Yes," continued Whittington. "What could be more delightful? To put the clock back a few years—a very few, I am sure—and re-enter one of those charming pensionnats de jeunes fille with which Paris abounds—"