“Love is of all ages and no ages. I am both ancient and youthful. Old in hope, young in despair—in affairs of the heart, I assure you, a veritable babe in the arms. I have never really loved—until now.”
“Why do you marry Aurora then?” she put in.
He looked at her with a puzzled brow, then laughed merrily. “Madame, you are too clever to waste your time in America.” But as Patricia was looking very gravely into the fire, he too relapsed into silence, and frowned at the ash of his cigarette.
“I do not see, Madame, why we should speak of her,” he said, sulkily. “It must be clear to you that our understanding is complete. The marriages in my country, as you know——”
“Oh, yes, I know,” she interrupted, “but Miss North is different. She has not the social ambitions of other girls. Miss North is romantic but quite unspoiled. Has it occurred to you that perhaps she may hope for a somewhat different relation between you?”
“We are good friends—very good friends. She is enchanting,” he said with enthusiasm, “so innocent of the ways of the world, so talented, so charming. We shall be very happy.”
“I hope so,” dryly.
He examined her shrewdly.
“You have her happiness close to your heart! Is it not so? What is to be feared? I shall be very good to her. We understand each other. She will be glad of the splendor of my ancient name, and I desire the means to restore my estates and place myself in a position of influence among my people. I care for her as one cares for a lovely flower—but the mind—the soul, Madame, I have found them—elsewhere,” he leaned forward and touched her fingers with his own.
Patricia’s gaze was far away. It seemed as though she was unconscious of his touch. “It is a pity,” she said, softly, “a great pity. I am very sorry.”