"The Marut Company has failed."
Beatrice sat silent a moment. Her free hand supported the firmly moulded chin, her eyes were fixed thoughtfully in front of her.
"I did not mean that sort of bankruptcy," she said at last. "That doesn't count, Lois. I used to think it meant the worst sort of misfortune, but it doesn't. The inner bankruptcy is worse. The loss of self-respect, of honor, of the trust of those one—cares for—" Again the low voice trembled dangerously, but she went on: "Don't commiserate with me, kind-hearted little woman. I don't need your pity—now. Bankruptcy isn't so bad. It is better than living on false credit. When the crash is over, one picks oneself up again. Hope is eternal, and on the ruins—"
"One can build cathedrals," Lois interposed dreamily.
"Yes, or palaces. But first the old rubbish must be cleared away. One must pay one's debts. I have very many to pay. First to you, Lois—"
"Don't! I have told you that that is all over."
"—and then to Captain Stafford. Lois, I did want to take him away from you, but I never succeeded. It was something else that did it—something which I have never understood."
"But which my husband knows?"
Beatrice nodded. She was not there to spare Lois or herself. She was there to tell the truth.
"Yes, he knows. But it is a mystery which we shall never penetrate. At any rate, I have set Captain Stafford free."