Fleming perceived her nervousness and made a gesture of apology.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I rapped but nobody seemed to hear me, so I used my key." "You're wet through--I'm sorry," said Dale with mechanical politeness.
He smiled.

"Oh, no." He stripped off his cap and raincoat and placed them on a chair, brushing himself off as he did so with finicky little movements of his hands.
"Reggie Beresford brought me over in his car," he said.

"He's waiting down the drive." Dale decided not to waste words in the usual commonplaces of social greeting.
"Mr.Fleming, I'm in dreadful trouble!" she said, facing him squarely, with a courageous appeal in her eyes.
He made a polite movement.

"Oh, I say! That's too bad." She plunged on.

"You know the Union Bank closed today." He laughed lightly.
"Yes, I know it! I didn't have anything in it--or any other bank for that matter," he admitted ruefully, "but I hate to see the old thing go to smash." Dale wondered which angle was best from which to present her appeal.
"Well, even if you haven't lost anything in this bank failure, a lot of your friends have--surely ?" she went on.
"I'll say so!" said Fleming, debonairly.