"It would still be a present, if you gave it to me. I had one, but I broke it. All my luck's left me since then. Are you superstitious?"
"Not—in—the—least! I keep this for associations and a toy. If I could bring out a play on Friday the thirteenth——"
"If you're not superstitious, there's no excuse for not giving it to me."
She tossed the horse-shoe into the air and caught it neatly with her right hand.
"I'll see if I can get you another one," he promised, "but I don't know whether they're made in England."
"It might make all the difference to me," she pleaded, catching the horse-shoe with her left hand. "It's only a toy to you—a child's toy."
Eric shook his head at her. Barbara pouted and threw the horse-shoe a third time into the air, bending forward to catch it behind her back as it dropped. Eric, watching apprehensively, saw a flash of apprehension reflected for an instant in her eyes; then there was a tinkle of broken glass.
"Oh, my dear! I wouldn't have done that for the world!" she cried, pressing her hands against her cheeks. "I've destroyed your luck now! What a fool I was! Abject fool!"
"What does it matter?" Eric laughed.
"I wouldn't have done that for the world," she repeated with a white face.