"Of course you must. You're so kind and always ready to help others."

The doctor showed his yellow fangs in a ghastly grin that gave a
skull-like look to his dried face.

"Hold thy wheedling tongue, hussy. This trinket--gold you say?"

"Try it, you know better than I."

Dr. Mountchance took the brooch into the inner room, weighed it, tested
the metal and returned to the shop.

"I can give you no more than the simple value of the gold. 'Tis not
pure--a crown should content ye."

"Well, it doesn't. Do you take me for a cutpurse? I'm not that sort."

"How do I know? You use thieves' jargon. Where did you pick it up?"

Lavinia gave one of her rippling laughs.

"That's my business and not yours. I tell you it's honestly come by and
I want a guinea for it. You know it's worth five and maybe more. The man
who gave it me--I don't care for him you may like to know--isn't mean.
He'd spend a fortune on me if I'd care to take it but I don't." She
tossed her head disdainfully.

"Oh, 'tis from your gallant. Aye, men are easily fooled by bright eyes.
Well--well----"