He opened the black bag, thrust both hands into it and threw out a handful of yellow coin which he allowed to pour through his fingers and rattle into a tin plate which had been left on the table.
Her eyes sparkled with avarice.
“It's your'n—all your'n?” she breathed hungrily.
“I'm taking it down South to invest for a fool who thinks”—he stopped and laughed—“who thinks it's bad luck to keep money that's stained with blood——”
Nance started back.
“Got blood on it?”
Jim spoke in confidential appeal.
“That wouldn't make any difference to you, would it?”
She shook her gray locks and glanced at the pile of yellow metal, hungrily.
“I—I wouldn't like it with blood marks!”