“But North and Company is a very great business house. So rich that even in France we have heard of them.”
“Yes—Mr. North has been rich for years,” and then with a sigh, “It is very sad—very, very sad.”
“But how could such a thing happen? Surely he is wise enough——”
“Speculation!” said Patricia, simply. “All of our business men speculate. Even the oldest—the wisest.”
DeLaunay sank into a chair at some distance, his head in his hands. “Dieu!” she heard him mutter. “What a terrible country. I cannot believe——”
Patricia got up at last and walked over and put her hand quietly on his shoulder. She was even smiling.
“I am so sorry, Monsieur. Of course you know that, don’t you? But I am sure everything will turn out for the best. Aurora loves you. You must remember that poverty will make no difference in the relations between you. She will even welcome the chance to be poor—she wants to be of some real use in the world—she has said so—you had even planned that, Monsieur!”
The Frenchman turned just one look in her direction, a look in which despair, inquietude, inquiry and anger were curiously blended and then rose and strode the length of the room away.
“You are mocking me. You know, Madame—that—that it is impossible—this marriage—if—what you tell me is true.”