She laughed.
“I’ve really no intention of selling at all,” she broke in, half hysterically, “I only wanted a valuation.”
“Oh! I see,” he replied, taken aback. “Then wot about the glarss upstairs, eh? Five pounds is wot I said.”
“Make it guineas,” she said firmly.
“Pounds, ma’am.”
“Five guineas,” she cried shrilly, “or I shan’t sell it.” The bargain demon had seized hold of her.
“It ain’t worth more’n pounds to me.”
“Then I’ll keep it.... Good afternoon.”
She turned to the door. He shuffled and sat down on the piano-stool.
“Well, ma’am, I’ll say guineas, then, as a favour to you. Only you’re drivin’ a hard bargain with me.... Do you agree to guineas?”