She drops a piece of money in his hand without touching it, and shuddering as their hands approach. "Now," she adds, "show me the spot again!"
Jo thrusts the handle of his broom between the bars of the gate, and with his utmost power of elaboration, points it out. At length, looking aside to see if he has made himself intelligible, he finds that he is alone.
His first proceeding is to hold the piece of money to the gas-light and to be overpowered at finding that it is yellow--gold. His next is to give it a one-sided bite at the edge as a test of its quality. His next, to put it in his mouth for safety and to sweep the step and passage with great care. His job done, he sets off for Tom-all-Alone's, stopping in the light of innumerable gas-lamps to produce the piece of gold and give it another one-sided bite as a reassurance of its being genuine.
The Mercury in powder is in no want of society to-night, for my Lady goes to a grand dinner and three or four balls. Sir Leicester is fidgety down at Chesney Wold, with no better company than the gout; he complains to Mrs. Rouncewell that the rain makes such a monotonous pattering on the terrace that he can't read the paper even by the fireside in his own snug dressing-room.

She drops a piece of money in his hand without touching it, shuddering as their hands approach. "Now," she adds, "show me the spot again!"
Jo thrusts the handle of his broom between the bars of the gate, and points it out. At length, looking around, he finds that he is alone.
He holds the piece of money to the gas-light and is overpowered at finding that it is yellow - gold. He tests it with a bite, then puts it in his mouth for safety. He sweeps the step and passage with great care. His job done, he sets off for Tom-all-Alone's, stopping in the light of many gas-lamps to produce the piece of gold and give it another look to reassure himself that it is genuine.
That evening my Lady Dedlock goes to a grand dinner and three or four balls. Sir Leicester is fidgety down at Chesney Wold; he complains to Mrs. Rouncewell that the rain makes such a monotonous pattering on the terrace that he can't read the paper in his dressing-room.
