"For us they would, I've no doubt," he assented with a grin.
"When do you go into that beastly old bank?" she asked.
"First of the month. After all it won't be so much worse than being married."
"You must be awfully hard up," she said once more regretfully.
"Oh, I'm always hard up. Don't bother about that."
She stooped forward and kissed him lightly, an unusual demonstration on her part, and stood brushing the crisp locks back from his forehead. He took her hand and pulled her down to kiss her in turn.
"Really, mater," he observed, still holding her hand, "we're getting quite spoony. Does the idea of marrying Harry Bradish make you sentimental?"
She smiled and did not answer, but withdrew her hand and returned to her seat by the window. She took up a bit of sewing, and folded down on the edge of the lawn a tiny hem.
"When I am married," she observed, the faint suspicion of a blush coming into her cheek, "I can pay that money back to you. Harry is rich enough, and generous enough."
Jack stopped in the lighting of a fresh cigarette, and regarded her keenly.