He counted out the coin, and looked considering. "Nah. This should do't. Ain't got more than an ouce of it, anyhows. Hold on, I'll be back."

Mr. Borgin was in the backroom for several minutes; when he came back, Parker had attempted to climb on one of the armchairs, and was nibbling on the fringe of an endtable cover. "Oi! Get her offa that, quick-smart. Here's your shavings." Her held up a small glass vial, containing spiralling curls of silvery, glowing ivory. "Right then?"