Theodore returned that evening, and the old assistant gave him a low, thorough account of the day's events.
He came to my sitting room and studied me for a moment. Then he said only two words. "Well done."
I slid a document across the table toward him. "This is a list of the liquid funds I've identified. That loss-making supermarket on the West Side—I'm planning to close it and convert it into a neighborhood fresh-food market. The margins are thin, but turnover is fast, and the information flow is good."
He picked up the document and scanned the well-organized plan, his gaze growing complicated. "You're more... than I expected."
"More like a socialite who doesn't know her place?" I finished for him with a faint smile. "Theodore, people like us—dignity is the last thing we can afford to
