gold that was worth its face-value all the world over?"

I did not know she could be so eloquent. I rose and went to the window.
It was a noble morning.

"Yes," I said after a little reflection, "put on your best hat and
collect your paper-money. But try and pack it all into the kit-bag if
you possibly can." (She winced a little.) "I know a bank where you will
be able to get all the gold you want...."
* * * * *
Shoulder to shoulder we fought the good fight for the motor-bus.

"Two to the Bank," I gasped.

But it was at Charing Cross station I made her descend. She looked
extraordinarily mystified, and I explained that the Bank's country
branches are the only ones where gold is still to be had.
* * * * *
She and an empty milk-can and I were all that got out at the little
station in the hills. However, a cuckoo introduced himself boldly by
name. He seemed so near he might have been in the booking-office. But
the booking-office was deserted.

"There can't possibly be a bank in this out-of-the-world place," she
protested.

"Patience," I replied, leading her down a steep path between high thick
hedges to a small gateway. Through this we went, and I heard her draw in
her breath.