conveniences were archaic, and the guest who was not on time got cold
viands.

The lover who had begun to stir Miss Harnden's thoughts into rather
unpleasant roiliness of doubts came hustling into the bank, hat and coat
on.

The girl and young Vaniman were spreading their respective lunches on
the center table inside the grille.

Britt called Vona to the wicket. He slipped the envelope through to her.
"There's no hurry, you understand! Take your time. Read it in a slack
moment--later! And"--he hesitated and gulped--"I want to see you after
bank hours. If you'll step in--I'll be much obliged."

She did not assent orally, nor show especial willingness to respond to
his invitation. She took the envelope and turned toward the table after
Britt had left the wicket.

She walked to the window and gazed at the retreating back of Mr. Britt,
and put the envelope into a velvet bag that was attached by slender
chains to her girdle.

When she faced Vaniman, the young cashier was regarding her archly.

"I wonder if congratulations are in order," he suggested.

Her quick flush was followed by a pallor that gave her an appearance of
anger. "I don't relish that sort of humor."