"I was at fault.

I'll keep the title for your husband--God help him!" She smiled grimly.
"And are these," she asked, with a ferocious sarcasm, "the jests with which you pay the score ?" "Jests ?" quoth I."Score?
Pish! More eyes, less tongue would more befit a hostess who has never housed a fool." And with a splendid gesture I pointed to the ducat gleaming on the table.

At sight of the gold her eyes grew big with greed.
"My master--" she began, and coming forward took the piece in her hand, to assure herself that she was not the dupe of magic.

"A fool with gold!" she marvelled.
"Is a shame to his calling," I acknowledged.

Then--"Get me a needle and a length of thread," said I.She scuttled off to do my bidding, like nothing so much as one of the rats that tenanted her unclean sty.