“Come downstairs,” she commanded, “I want you to value a few things for me.”
The fact was that she was prepared to be ironically entertained by the niggardly sums he offered. She brought him to the piano.
“Here,” she said, “a Steinway baby grand, splendid tone, good as new, fine rosewood frame; what’ll you offer for that?”
He thumped the chord of A major.
“Sixty,” he replied.
“Sixty what?”
“Pounds ... might go to guineas.”
“Look here, do you know I paid a hundred and twenty guineas less than twelve months ago for it?”
“All I know, ma’am, is it ain’t worth more than sixty to me.”
“But it’s practically new!”