“Mr Thickens!”
“Ah, I see,” he cried with a good-humoured smile, for delicacy was not the forte of the bank clerk of the little country town. “Mr Bayle patched up that story. Why, my dear madam, when the crash came you hadn’t a halfpenny. Here, quick, my dear! Mrs Hallam has turned faint!”
“No, it is nothing,” she cried hastily. “I am better now, Mr Thickens. Go back to our friends, Julie—to grandma. It is past.”
“I—I’m afraid I’ve spoken too plainly,” said Thickens apologetically, as soon as they were alone once more. “I wish I’d held my tongue.”
“I am very glad that you spoke, Mr Thickens,” said Mrs Hallam in a low voice. “It was better that I should know.”
“Then you will let me lend you that money?” eagerly.
“No. It is impossible. I am deeper in obligations than I thought. Pray spare me by not saying more.”
“I want to do everything you wish,” said Thickens uneasily.
“Then say no word about what you have told me to any one.”
“Pooh! Mrs Hallam, as if I should. Money matters are always sacred with me. That comes of Mr Bayle banking in town. If he had trusted me with his money matters, I should never have spoken like this.”