There was a long pause, during which she attempted to withdraw
herself from his side, her little fingers struggling timidly
beneath the big ones.

"Are you a collector of coins?" she asked at length, a
perceptible coldness in her voice.

"No. I am considered a dispenser of coins. Still, I rather like
the idea of possessing this queer bit of money as a pocket-piece.
I intend to keep it forever, and let it descend as an heirloom to
the generations that follow me," he said, laughingly. "Why are
you so curious about it?"

"Because it comes from the city and country in which I live," she
responded. "If you were in a land far from your own would you
not be interested in anything--even a coin--that reminded you of
home?"

"Especially if I had not seen one of its kind since leaving
home," he replied, insinuatingly.

"Oh, but I have seen many like it. In my purse there are several
at this minute."

"Isn't it strange that this particular coin should have reminded
you of home?"

"You have no right to question me, sir," she said, coldly,
drawing away, only to be lurched back again. In spite of herself
she laughed audibly.