Margo wondered how much that would cost, but didn’t quite dare ask. That seemed like an awfully personal question and she was still feeling very uncertain in the aftermath of that harmless kiss last night.
”Speaking of money, do you remember my lecture on currency?”
Oh, no…
”I, uh…” Margo tried frantically to recall what Malcolm had taught her during their visit to Goldie Morran, one of TT-86’s money changers. “The basic unit’s the pound. It’s abbreviated with that little `L’; thing.”
”And a pound is made up of …”
She cast back through the confusion of foreign terms. “Twenty shillings.”
Twenty-one shillings being called?”
Oh, God, it was some sort of bird…”A hen?”
Malcolm sat back and covered his eyes, stricken with helpless laughter. “The association,” he wheezed, “is flawlessly logical, I’ll have to credit you that much. A guinea, Margo. A guinea.”
”A guinea,” she repeated grimly. “Twenty-one shillings is a guinea.”
”Now, what else do we call twenty shillings, other than a pound?”
Margo screwed shut her eyes and tried to remember. Not a king, there was a queen on the throne. “A sovereign.”
”Or quid, in slang terms. What’s it made of?”
”Gold. So’s a half-sovereign!” she finished triumphantly.
”And half of that?”
Something else to do with royalty. But what, she couldn’t remember. She lifted her hands helplessly.
”A crown. Five shillings is a crown, or a `bull’ in slang usage.”
Margo took a deep breath. “A crown. A quarter sovereign is a crown. Then there’s the half-crown, or two-and-a-half shillings.” Her head hurt.