“Your wit goes farther than your fortune, doesn't it?” she said, smiling.
“I don't conceal.”
“You don't conceal either of them, do you? You spread them both out,” and she laughed a pleasant little ripple of sound.
Noel rose with distinction and bent toward her across the table.
“My fortune is this ten-cent piece. As you see, on the front of it is stamped a throned woman.”
“Oh, how clever.” She laughed, and Noel flushed with the applause.
“Shall we trust fortune and spin the coin? Heads, the throned woman, I shall presently worship you, an earthly divinity. Tails, a barren wreath and the denomination of a money value, meaning I take my fortunes away, and you,” pointing in turn to the sleeper and the jewels, “put up with yours as you can.”
She seemed to shiver as he pointed. “No,” she said, “I couldn't do that. A woman never likes to spin a coin seriously.”
“Will you go, then?”
The sleeper grunted and turned over. She turned pale, put her hand to her throat, said hurriedly, “Wait here,” and left the room, lifting and drawing her skirt aside as she passed the sleeper.