He lifted a handful of coin, clinked it musically in his hands and held it in his open palms before her.
“Look! Look at it close! You don't see any blood marks on it, do you?”
Her eyes devoured it.
“No.”
He seized her hand, thrust a half-dozen pieces into it and closed her thin fingers over it.
“Feel of it—look at it!”
Her hands gripped the gold. She breathed quickly, broke into a laugh, caught herself in the middle of it, and lapsed suddenly into silence.
“Feels good, don't it?” he laughed.
Nance grinned, her uneven, discolored gleaming ominously in the flicker of the candle.
“Don't it?” he repeated.