“I obtained the coin from a sleeping-car porter who said some one gave it to him and told him to have a 'high time' with it,” he explained in her ear.
“He evidently did not care for the 'high time,'” she said, after a moment. He would have given a fortune for one glimpse of her face at that instant.
“I think he said it would be necessary to go to Europe in order to follow the injunction of the donor. As I am more likely to go to Europe than he, I relieved him of the necessity and bought his right to a 'high time.'”
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?”