The Highgate Frenchwoman was dangling something gaudy and flimsy before Fanny's eyes, and the girl had her purse in her hand.
Charles gave a sigh, and resumed his beat like a policeman.
At last she came out, carrying a tissue-paper parcel.
"Well, have you got your—what you called for?"
"No, it's not ready yet; but I've got the most beautiful—Oh my goodness me!—how stupid I am!"
"What?"
"I have only three halfpence left, and I have forgotten the eggs and things for supper."
"Give me your purse, and let me look into it," he said, taking the little purse and turning away a moment. Then he handed it back to her; she opened it and peeped in, and there lay a sovereign.
"It's just what father does," she said, looking up in the lamp-light with a smile that somehow made Mr Bevan's eyes feel misty. "What makes you so like him in everything you do?" And somehow these words seemed to the correct Mr Bevan the sweetest he had ever heard.