"Nothing particular," he said, as he took a seat near her and clasped
his cold, nervous hands over his knee.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes still on him. "I know better," she
half sighed. "I can see it all over you. At dinner I watched you. You
look--look as you did the day you came. You have no idea how you
improved, but you are getting back. Oh, I think I know!" she sighed
again, and her pretty mouth drooped. "You are in trouble. Mr. Saunders
has brought you bad news of business."

He saw a loophole of escape from an embarrassing situation, and in
desperation he used it. "Things are always going crooked in a bank
like ours," he said, avoiding her despondent stare. "Men in my
business take risks, you know. Things run smoothly at times, and then
--then they may not do so well."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she faltered; "you were getting on beautifully.
You--you seemed perfectly happy, too, and I hoped that--" Her voice
trailed away in the still room, and he saw her breast under its thin
covering rise and fall suddenly.

"Don't let it worry you," he said.

"How can I help it?" She put the books on the window-sill and raised
her hand to her brow. "I know how to fight my _own_ troubles, but
yours are too big, too intricate, too far away. What--what are you
going to do?"

He felt the need of further pretense. He looked down as he answered: