with the highest spirit, tore the crisp token into several pieces, which fluttered, as worthless now as pure snowflakes, to the floor.
"Ay, ay, ay!"—it drew from her a wail of which the character, for its sharp inconsequence, was yet comic.
This renewed his stare at her. "Do you want to back out? I mean from your noble stand."
As quickly, however, she had saved herself. "I'd rather do even what you're doing—offer my treasure to the Thingumbob!"
He was touched by this even to sympathy. "Will you then join me in setting the example of a great donation———?"
"To the What-do-you-call-it?" she extravagantly smiled.
"I call it," he said with dignity, "the 'National Gallery.'"
She closed her eyes as with a failure of breath. "Ah my dear friend———!"
"It would convince me," he went on, insistent and persuasive.
"Of the sincerity of my affection?"—she drew nearer to him.
"It would comfort me"—he was satisfied
