No answer.
"Will you take ten shillings?"
"No, sir," very quietly.
He frowned. "Eleven shillings?"
"No, sir."
"What do you throw off?"
"Not—anything, sir," in slow but very unmistakable English.
He flounced out of the shop, leaving the things lying on the counter.
Not a muscle of the young woman's face changed, as she quietly returned the pretty toys to their place on the shelves.
"Brava!" said Mona to herself.