“There are three-and-thirty million people in London,” he said: “some of them must have need of me.”
“Some must.”
“The trouble is ... Well—Bindon, that brown little old man your father wanted you to marry. He’s an important person.... I can’t go back to my flying-stage work, because he is now a Commissioner of the Flying Stage Clerks.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Elizabeth.
“He was made that in the last few weeks ... or things would be easy enough, for they liked me on the flying stage. But there’s dozens of other things to be done—dozens. Don’t you worry, dear. I’ll rest a little while, and then we’ll dine, and then I’ll start on my rounds. I know lots of people—lots.”
So they rested, and then they went to the public dining-room and dined, and then he started on his search for employm
