She made no reply, merely swept her glance over Arnold’s shoulder toward the door.
“We were sorry to lose him as president of this bank. His resignation came as a complete surprise. And now I suppose we shall be losing you. You will join him in New York, of course.”
“No,” she answered steadily. She had resolved to tell no lies and to make no explanations.
“Keep your home here then! Well, that’s good news. Means Cutter’s anchored in Shannon, after all. He’ll be dropping in on us here at the bank when he comes down; be mighty glad to see him.”
She said she did not know, bade him good morning and went out.
Arnold stood watching her through the window until she stepped into the car. Then he turned to the cashier. “Nice woman, Mrs. Cutter, but—well, she’s not vivacious, is she?” he said, grinning.
“I have often wondered how a man like Cutter came to choose such a wife,” the cashier returned with a slower grin.
“Wasn’t a man like Cutter is now when he courted her. Young fellow; I remember him well; had a fine physical sense of himself. Nobody suspected he would ever develop the money-making talents of a wolf in the market then. Fell in love with a pretty girl. She was the prettiest thing in Shannon. Married her. That’s how it happened,” Arnold explained.
“Seems to have turned out all right.”
“Never heard anything to the contrary; but you can’t tell. Something is in the wind. I thought Mrs. Cutter looked pretty shaky this morning. Had a sort of dying gasp in her eye. Pale, noncommittal. Couldn’t get a darn thing out of her about Cutter. But she may be trained that way. Wives of great men often remind us that what’s husband’s business is none of our business,” he laughed. “Cutter’s a sort of cheap great man. How much did she deposit?” lowering his voice.