Mr. Arthur coughed, pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. The sound, intensified there in that still place, jarred through Sally's senses. She roughly told herself that she was a fool. "You know I'm in a bank?" he began. "Yes; of course." "It's a private bank." "Really?" "Yes; what I mean is, they pay better than most banks usually do." "Really?" "And they're going to make me a cashier." "Oh, is that good?" "Well, there's hardly a fellow of my age in any bank that's got to a responsible position like that, in the time I have. I bet you a shilling there isn't." "Well, I can't afford to bet a shilling on it." "No, of course not; I didn't mean that. What I mean--" "I understand what you mean," said Sally. A sense of humour might have gone far to save him at that moment. She accredited it against him that he had none. "You might just as well have bet ten pounds," she added with a smile, "and I should have known what you meant. Ten pounds always sounds better than a shilling--even in that sort of--of--transaction." "Ah, you're only joking," said he. "No, I'm not," she replied. "I'm quite serious. I like the sound of ten pounds better. There's a nice ring of bravado about it. A shilling seems so mean." For a few moments he was silenced by the weight of her incomprehensibleness. Such a moment comes at all times to every man, whatever his dealings with a woman may be. Mr. Arthur stood leaning on the railing, looking out at the black water and thinking how little she understood of the seriousness of his position, or the meaning that such an uplifting of his financial status conveyed to a man. She did not even know what he was about to propose. It would steady her considerably when she heard that; she would be less flippant then. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched her face--the little, round, childish face almost perfect in outline--the gentle force, petulance almost, in the shapely chin, and the lips--tantalizing--they looked so innocent. In another few moments he would be kissing those lips; in another few moments he would be feeling the warmth of that hand that lay idly over the railing. He wondered if he were really wise. Was he being carried away by the first flush of triumph which his success had brought him? There was time to draw back yet. "Well," she said, "was that what you were going to tell me?"