They had been hiding their deeper feelings under the thin coating of comradeship for a long time.  As in the instance of other pent-up explosives, only the right kind of a jar was needed to “trip” the mass.

The threat of a rival—­even of such a preposterous rival as Tasper Britt—­served as detonator in the case of Frank Vaniman, and the explosion of his emotions produced sympathetic results in the girl across the table from him.  He leaped up, strode around to her and put out his arms, and she rushed into the embrace he offered.

But their mutual consolations were denied them—­he was obliged to dam back his choking speech and she her blessed tears.

A depositor came stamping in.

They were calm, with their customary check on emotions, when they were free to talk after the man had gone away.

“Vona, I did not mean to speak out to you so soon,” he told her.  “Not but what it was in here”—­he patted his breast—­“and fairly boiling all the time!”

She assured him, with a timid look, that her own emotions had not been different from his.

“But I have respected your obligations,” he went on, with earnest candor.  “And this is the first real job I’ve ever had.  It’s best to be honest with each other.”

She agreed fervently.

“I wish we could be just as honest with Britt.  But we both know what kind of a man he is.  The sentiment of ‘Love, and the world well lost’ is better in a book than it is in this bank just now, as matters stand with us.  I have had so many hard knocks in life that I know what they mean, and I want to save you from them.  Isn’t it best to go along as we are for a little while, till I can see my way to get my feet placed somewhere else?”

“We must do so, Frank—­for the time being.”  Her candor matched his.  “I do need this employment for the sake of my folks.  Both of us must be fair to ourselves—­not silly.  Only—­”

Her forehead wrinkled again.

“I know, Vona!  Britt’s attentions!  I’ll take it on myself—­”

“No,” she broke in, with dignity.  “I must make that my own affair.  It can be easily settled.  It’s pure folly on his part.  I’ll make him understand it when I talk with him this afternoon.”

“But I’ll feel like a coward,” he protested, passionately.

She put up her hand and smiled.  “You’re not a coward, dear!  Nor am I a hypocrite.  We’re just two poor toilers who must do the best we can till the clouds clear away.”

She went to him, and when her hands caressed his cheeks he bent down and kissed her.

Then they applied themselves to their tasks in Mr. Britt’s bank.

CHAPTER IV

THE ACHE OF RAPPED KNUCKLES

Landlord Files set forth a boiled dinner that day; he skinched on corned beef and made up on cabbage; but he economized on fuel, and the cabbage was underdone.