It was this note, not the clipping of her coupons, that had detained Helen so long in the little dark anteroom of the vault. There was no date, but from the date on the check, she perceived that it had been made on the tenth of July, when George had been in Shannon for a week. As early as that, then, he had contemplated this separation! He was planning this spurious honesty, paying back the money she had advanced him years ago for his first adventure in stocks while he cheated her of his love and her dignity as a wife. When you think about this, it is always some relatively insignificant thing that excites your most lasting contempt. So, now Cutter fell to the nadir of his wife’s regard. She was obliged to remain in this little closet of the vault after she had finished everything, endeavoring to compose herself before she dared meet the scrutiny of the eyes outside. We do this so often when really no one takes particular notice of us. It was the merest accident that Arnold, the new president, was coming in and caught sight of her as she was leaving the wicket after depositing the check and the amount of the coupons to her account. He greeted her effusively. “You are looking well,” he informed her. She knew that she was not, but she told him, yes, she was very well. “And how’s Cutter?” smiling as a man does when he thinks he has introduced an agreeable topic. She said that she had not heard from Mr. Cutter since he returned to New York. “Busy man! Busy man! Goes at everything like a house afire. You will have to take care of him, Mrs. Cutter, or he’ll break down, go smash one of these days.” She made no reply, merely swept her glance over Arnold’s shoulder toward the door. “We were sorry to lose him as president of this bank. His resignation came as a complete surprise. And now I suppose we shall be losing you. You will join him in New York, of course.” “No,” she answered steadily. She had resolved to tell no lies and to make no explanations. “Keep your home here then! Well, that’s good news. Means Cutter’s anchored in Shannon, after all. He’ll be dropping in on us here at the bank when he comes down; be mighty glad to see him.” She said she did not know, bade him good morning and went out. Arnold stood watching her through the window until she stepped into the car. Then he turned to the cashier. “Nice woman, Mrs. Cutter, but--well, she’s not vivacious, is she?” he said, grinning. “I have often wondered how a man like Cutter came to choose such a wife,” the cashier returned with a slower grin. “Wasn’t a man like Cutter is now when he courted her. Young fellow; I remember him well; had a fine physical sense of himself. Nobody suspected he would ever develop the money-making talents of a wolf in the market then. Fell in love with a pretty girl. She was the prettiest thing in Shannon. Married her. That’s how it happened,” Arnold explained. “Seems to have turned out all right.”