CHAPTER XXIX
She found Duco lying listlessly on the sofa. He had a bad headache and she sat down beside him.
"Well?" he asked.
"The man offered me eighty lire for the Memmo," she said, "but he declared that the panel was not by Gentile da Fabriano: he remembered having seen it here."
"The man's crazy," he replied. "Or else he is trying to get my Gentile for nothing.... Cornélie, I really can't sell it."
"Well, Duco, then we'll think of something else," said she, laying her hand on his aching forehead.
"Perhaps one or two smaller things, a knick-knack or two," he moaned.
"Perhaps. Shall I go back to him this afternoon?"
"No, no, I'll go. But, really, it is easier to buy that sort of thing than to sell it."
"That is so, Duco," she agreed, laughing. "But I asked yesterday what I should get for a pair of bracelets; and I'll dispose of those to-day. And that will keep us going for quite a month. But I have some news for you. Do you know whom I met?"