"But," she said, "I must say something about myself. While I am a War-worker, I have never told you yet what I am doing. I am a clerk in Marr's Bank, in Cheapside."
"There is nothing dishonourable in that," he almost shouted.
"There is not," she answered, haughtily drawing herself up.
"I keep my account there," he said.
"I know," she replied; "I am in the Pass-book department."
He stood quite still, but the lapels of his dinner-jacket shook slightly.
"My duties," she went on quietly, "are to report each evening to my chief, Mr. Hassets, on our clients' balances. Yours has never been higher than £24 7s. 9d. during the eighteen months that I have been there. I am very sorry, but I cannot marry you."
He looked straight into her inscrutable eyes and the right repartee froze on his lips.
On the morrow he left at dawn, just as the birds were beginning to drop; and before the day was over he had transferred his account from Marr's Bank to Parr's.