He laughed. "Meaning me?" he suggested.
She nodded, much pleased. "Perhaps," she replied.
"Don't worry about that," mocked he.
"I shan't till I have to," she assured him. "And I don't think I'll have to."
On the Monday morning following, Tetlow came in to see Norman as soon as he arrived. "I want a two weeks' leave," he said. "I'm going to Bermuda or down there somewhere."
"Why, what's the matter?" cried Norman. "You do look ill, old man."
"I saw her last night," replied the chief clerk, dropping an effort at concealing his dejection. "She—she turned me down."
"Really? You?" Norman's tone of sympathetic surprise would not have deceived half attentive ears. But Tetlow was securely absorbed. "Why, Billy, she can't hope to make as good a match."
"That's what I told her—when I saw the game was going against me. But it was no use."