"It was?" Bob turned quickly. "Are you sure? I was watching the woman and did not notice the machine."
A mutual discovery—they both cared.
As they entered the bank Mrs. Barnett, dressed in a very girlish travelling suit, was standing by the check counter as though waiting. At sight of Bob she nodded and smiled reservedly.
"Oh, Mr. Rogeen," she arched her brows and called to him as he started to the cashier's window with Imogene Chandler.
Bob excused himself and approached her, a little uneasy and decidedly annoyed. Her mouth was simpering, but her eyes had that sharp, predatory look he had seen before.
"Mr. Rogeen," she began in a cool, ladylike voice, "my uncle told me of the arrangement he had made with you and asked me to O. K. all the loans before you make them."
"Is that so?" Bob felt a mingling of wrath and despair. "He did not say anything to me about it."
"N-o?"—questioningly—"we talked it over last night, and he felt sure this would be the better plan."