“Here is a penny,” said Newbold.
“A penny! You ought to blush the colour of the copper to suggest it. I will toss only gold for such a bloomin’ and lovely lady. Here is a sovereign. Heads or Royal Arms—which?”
“Heads for me!” said Newbold.
“And arms—them extended arms for me,” said Jack Westcott, with a leer at the widow.
The sailor tossed the sovereign.
“Heads!” he exclaimed.
“Best of three,” said the mason condescendingly.
“Tails!” said Jack, after the second toss.
Now all paused and looked at each other. The widow’s face expressed anxiety.