apologetically.

"None whatever," he assured her.

"Only that a good many people do know us--"

"I dare say. I haven't the honor to be among the number."

"And I thought that possibly--just possibly--you might be predisposed in
my favor."

"A banker is never predisposed in favor of any one--not even his own
flesh and blood."

"I didn't know that," Diane persisted, bravely, "otherwise I might just
as well have gone to anybody else."

"Just as well."

"Would you like me to go now?"

The question took him by surprise, and before replying he looked at her
again with queer, bulgy eyes peering through big circular glasses, in a
way that made Diane think of an ogre in a fairy tale.

"You're not here for what I like," he said at last, "but for what you
want yourself."

"That's true," Diane admitted, ruefully, "but I might go away. I _will_
go away, if you say so."