"It was most gracious of you, Mrs. Jacobs," he said with dignity. "I should have come in at once to express my appreciation of your—"
"Oh, that's all right. Don't mention it. You're a decent little feller, de Bosky, and I've got a heart,—although most of these mutts around here don't think so. Yes, sir, I meant it when I said you could tear up the pawn ticket and take the coat—with the best wishes of yours truly."
"Spoken like a lady," said he promptly. He was fanning himself with his hat.
"Mind you, I don't ask you for a penny. The slate is clean. There's the coat, layin' over there on that counter. Take it along. No one can ever say that I'd let a fellow-creature freeze to death for the sake of a five-dollar bill. No, sir! With the compliments of 'The Royal Exchange,'—if you care to put it that way."
"But I cannot permit you to cancel my obligation, Mrs. Jacobs. I shall hand you the money inside of a fortnight. I thank you, however, for the generous impulse—"
"Cut it out," she interrupted genially. "Nix on the sentiment stuff. I'm in a good humour. Don't spoil it by tryin' to be polite. And don't talk about handin' me anything. I won't take it."
"In that case, Mrs. Jacobs, I shall be obliged to leave the coat with you," he said stiffly.
She stared. "You mean,—you won't accept it from me?"
"I borrowed money on it. I can say no more, madam."
"Well, I'll be—" She extended her hand again, a look of genuine pleasure in her black eyes. "Shake hands again, Prince de Bosky. I—I understand."