"Well," she began, quite graciously, settling herself down on the step beside her father-in-law, "if peace be better than war, what price hath peace?"
The accountant leaned over to her eagerly. "Halves--halves in everything save liberty. That is all thine own."
For an instant she felt tempted. Then her natural waywardness returned.
"And if I claim the whole?"
"War! And that to a woman without gold--"
She gave an irritating chuckle. "Bah! It may come any day. Shâhbâsh may find it; the old man may speak."
The very possibility of her words being true roused his anger. "Speak! He will never speak again."
A rattle behind made them both turn with the alertness of those who live among snakes. Suttu was on her feet in a second without a cry. The accountant let loose a yell of dismay, and in his recoil rolled back a step or two, where he lay clutching at the bricks wildly. For the old saint was sitting up on his bed waggling his bald head over the coin; he could not have looked more ghastly had he risen from the dead.
The great moment was upon them!
This thought came first to both spectators; and they were too uncultured to conceal it.