"No, I wish to get the money for it."
"Ah, but that is difficult. We do not often make those arrangements. Second-hand articles—"
"But the bag is quite new. Anyhow, it must have some value. Of course I'd not expect the full price."
The jeweler smiled. "The full price? Ah, madame, we should not think of offering it again as it is. We should—"
"No matter," interrupted Mildred. The man's expression—the normally pleasant and agreeable countenance turned to repulsive by craft and lying—made her eager to be gone. "What is the most you will give me?"
"I shall have to consider—"
"I've only a few minutes. Please do not irritate me."
The man was studying her countenance with a desperate look. Why was she, the bride of the monstrously rich American, why was she trying to sell the bag? Did it mean the end of her resources? Or, were there still huge orders to be got from her? His shrewdness, trained by thirty years of dealing with all kinds of luxurious human beings, went exploring in vain. He was alarmed by her frown. He began hesitatingly:
"The jewels and the gold are only a small part of the value. The chief value is the unique design, so elegant yet so simple. For the jewels and the gold, perhaps two thousand francs—"
"The purse was twelve thousand francs," interrupted she.