Any banker, with his clients clamouring on the stairs and out into the street, might look as John Turner looked.
"You have heard the news ?" asked Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence, turning sharply in her chair and looking at Colville with an expression of sudden relief.

She carried a handkerchief in her hand, but her eyes were dry.

She was, after all, only a forerunner of those who now propose to manage human affairs.

And even in these later days of their great advance, they have not left their pocket-handkerchiefs behind them.
"I was told by one of the crowd," replied Colville, with a side smile full of sympathy for Turner, "that the--er--bank had come to grief." "Was just telling Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence," said Turner, imperturbably, "that it is too early in the day to throw up the sponge and cry out that all is lost." "All!" echoed Colville, angrily.

"But do you mean to say--Why, surely, there is generally something left." Turner shrugged his shoulders and sat in silence, gnawing the middle joint of his thumb.
"But I must have the money!" cried Mrs.St.Pierre Lawrence.