followed, closing the door after him.

"Want something, Patsy?" he inquired.

The room was obviously one of the best of the Bella Union. That is to say,
it was fairly large, the morning sun streamed in through its two windows,
and it contained a small iron stove. In all other respects it differed
quite from any other hotel room in the San Francisco of that time. A heavy
carpet covered the floor, the upholstery was of leather or tapestry, wall
paper adorned the walls, a large table supported a bronze lamp and numerous
books and papers, a canary, in a brass cage, hung in the sunshine of one of
the windows, flitted from perch to perch, occasionally uttering a few
liquid notes under its breath.

"Just a little change, Jack, if you have some with you," said the woman.
Her speaking voice was rich and low.

Sherwood thrust a forefinger into his waistcoat pocket, and produced one of
the hexagonal slugs of gold current at that time.

"Oh, not so much!" she protested.

"All I've got. What are you up to to-day, Patsy?"

"I thought of going down to Yet Lee's--unless there is something better to
do."

"Doesn't sound inspiring. Did you go to that fair or bazaar thing
yesterday?"