Had she looked well-to-do, he would have taken the loaf, promising to send the money; but he could not bring himself to trouble the thoughts of a poor woman, possibly with a large family, to whom the price of such a loaf must be of no small consequence.

He thanked her again, but shook his head.

The woman looked more angry than before: having constrained herself to give, it was hard to be refused.
"Yo micht tak what's offered yo!" she said.
Cosmo stood thinking: was there any way out of the difficulty?
Almost mechanically he began searching his pockets: he had very few THINGS either in his pockets or anywhere else.

All his fingers encountered was a penknife too old and worn to represent any value, a stump of cedar-pencil, and an ancient family-seal his father had given him when he left home.

This last he took out, glanced at it, felt that only the duty of saving his life could make him part with it, put it back, turned once more, said "Good morning," and left the shop.
He had not gone many steps when he heard the shop-bell ring; the woman came running after him.