“Perhaps you would not get so much,” persisted Miriam. “And suppose he does not pay it back?”
“You are mistaken. The watch, with the chain, is worth more than the double this sum.” His face expressed a grave simple finality.
“But it is a shame ,” she cried, jealously eyeing the decoration that seemed now to have been an essential part of their many meetings. Without this mark of opulence, he would not be quite the same. …
“Why a shame?” demanded Mr. Shatov, with his little abrupt snorting chuckle. “I shall again have my watch when my father shall send me the next portion of my allowance.” He was not counting on the return of the money! Next month, with his allowance, he would have the watch and forget the incident. … Wealth made life safe for him. People could be people to him; even strangers; not threats or problems. But even a wealthy Englishman would not calmly give ten pounds to a disreputable stranger … he would suspect him even if he were not disreputable. It might be true that the Pole was in honest difficulties. But it was impossible to imagine him really working at anything. Mr. Shatov did not feel this at all. …
“I’m afraid I don’t know any pawn shops,” she said, shrinking even from the pronunciation of the word. She scanned her London. They had always been there … but she had never noticed or thought of them … “I don’t remember ever having seen one; but I know you are supposed to recognise them,” here was strange useful knowledge, something picturesque floating in from somewhere … “by three gold balls hanging outside. … I have seen one” they were talking now, the Polish Doctor was fading away. “Yes … on a bus” his wide child’s eyes were set impersonally on what she saw, “somewhere down by Ludgate Circus.”
“I will at once go there,” he said sitting leisurely back with dreaming eyes and his hands thrust into his pockets.