Happiness from a rascal

When I told her that I would never give money to the particular busker we saw pocketing the gold coins some people had given him, presumably so that the contents of his guitar case might continue to look pathetic, she said how, when she'd given him two dollars a week ago and he'd thanked her and told her she'd been the first to give anything all morning, even someone saying that he had just said the same thing to her had failed to erase the stupid lightheaded happiness she was experiencing -- the kind of happiness from a rascal, as she said, you'd like to see cuffed.