The words almost added themselves to the end of the sentence. "I would do best to sell you... But I can get so much more for you, in the right place." The sensation like gold coins brushing against her fingertips, cool, and smooth, with coarse edges, trickling between her fingers.<br/><br/>The next morning, the sun shone brightly, filtered hazily through dirty glass, giving it a slightly yellowish tinge. Outside, the sounds of conversation had already gathered. It sounded worried, or upset. Excited. There was an undercurrent of concern. The words themselves, however, were indistinct. A few moments later, a light tap on the door announced the innkeeper's wife, "Excuse me," she said, from beyond the door. "Breakfast is ready, if you'd like to come to the table." Her voice sounded distracted, and worried, but she moved off before any question could be made.