broke in the old man impatiently. "You haven't come to buy that paltry
trinket, I'll swear."

"How do you knew? It takes my fancy. Where did you get it?"

"I've had it but five minutes. You passed the girl who sold it me as you
came in. A pretty coaxing wench. She'd make a man pour out his gold at
her feet if she cared to try."

Sally's lips went pallid with passion and her white nostrils quivered.

"A common little trull," she burst out. "She should be sent to Bridewell
and soundly whipped. 'Tis little more than six months she was a street
squaller cadging for pence round the boozing kens of St. Giles and Clare
Market. And now--pah! it makes me sick."

Sally flung the brooch upon the table with such violence it bounced a
foot in the air.

"Gently--gently, my good Sally," remonstrated Mountchance, "if you must
vent your fury upon anything choose your own property, not mine."

It was doubtful if the virago heard the request. She was not given to
curbing her temper, and leaning back in the chair, her body rigid, she
beat a tattoo with her high-heeled shoes and clenched her fists till
the knuckles whitened.

Mountchance had seen hysterical women oft times and was not troubled. He
opened a stoppered bottle and held its rim to the lady's nose. The
moment was well chosen, Sally was in the act of drawing a deep breath,