"Miss Taunton--Sylvia," he ejaculated, "you will be surprised at this
suddenness, I know, but I cannot keep it in any longer; I love you
enormously. Is there any chance for me?"

She had just reached that passage in Nathaniel's song where a triumphant
ascending scale in G rings out. She faltered and played D-flat instead of
D-natural, the first dissonance that night--would it had been the last!
Quickly she turned on the music-stool and on him, and spoke with averted
head.

"Mr. Armstrong, I will own frankly that I like you more than a little.
Though we only met three days ago I am more drawn to you than I have ever
been to any other man."

"Aha," he cried exultingly.

"But," she said, "I must say something about myself. While I am a
War-worker, I have never told you yet what I am doing. I am a clerk in
Marr's Bank, in Cheapside."

"There is nothing dishonourable in that," he almost shouted.

"There is not," she answered, haughtily drawing herself up.

"I keep my account there," he said.

"I know," she replied; "I am in the Pass-book department."

He stood quite still, but the lapels of his dinner-jacket shook slightly.