'Oh, Cyril, I can hardly wait! Isn't it exciting?'
'It's amusing,' he said, slipping the ticket into his waistcoat pocket. 'There's no doubt about that.'
Monday morning came at last, and after breakfast Mrs Bixby followed her husband to the door and helped him on with his coat.
'Don't work too hard, darling,' she said.
'No, all right.'
'Home at six?'
'I hope so.'
'Are you going to have time to go to that pawnbroker?' she asked.
'My God, I forgot all about it. I'll take a cab and go there now. It's on my way.'
'You haven't lost the ticket, have you?'
'I hope not,' he said, feeling in his waistcoat pocket. 'No, here it is.'
'And you have enough money?'
'Just about.'
'Darling,' she said, standing close to him and straightening his tie, which was perfectly straight. 'If it happens to be something nice, something you think I might like, will you telephone me as soon as you get to the office?'
'If you want me to, yes.'
'You know, I'm sort of hoping it'll be something for you, Cyril. I'd much rather it was for you than for me.'
'That's very generous of you, my dear. Now I must run.'
About an hour later, when the telephone rang, Mrs Bixby was across the room so fast she had the receiver off the hook before the first ring had finished.
'I got it!' he said.
'You did! Oh, Cyril, what was it? Was it something good?'
'Good!' he cried. 'It's fantastic! You wait till you get your eyes on this! You'll swoon!'
'Darling, what is it? Tell me quick!'
'You're a lucky girl, that's what you are.'
'It's for me, then?'
'Of course it's for you. Though how in the world it ever got to be pawned for only fifty dollars I'll be damned if I know. Someone's crazy.'
'Cyril! Stop keeping me in suspense! I can't bear it!'
'You'll go mad when you see it.'
'What is it?'
'Try to guess.'
Mrs Bixby paused. Be careful, she told herself. Be very careful now.