Gault felt that the pleasure of thus sitting and looking at her was sapping his resolution. He felt himself drifting away, aimless and irresponsible, on the current of the moment. The duties of past and future were lost sight of in the dreamy satisfaction of watching the light on her hair and the movements of her hands. He rose suddenly and walked to the window, with a remark about seeing if the fog was lifting. As he turned, he saw her take a folded paper from one of the coat-pockets, and, standing looking out of the window, heard the crisp rustling of the paper as she unfolded it. There was a moment of perfect silence, and then he heard again the same light rustling, which sounded curiously loud and intrusive to his irritated nerves. He turned toward her, wondering why she did not speak. She was sitting with the opened paper in her hands, her eyes riveted on it. As he drew near, he saw that the rustling rose from the fact that her hands were trembling violently, causing the paper to vibrate. She heard his approaching step and looked up. At the sight of her face he stopped. "What is it?" she cried, rising suddenly to her feet and holding it out toward him. He glanced at it. It was the colonel's duplicate memorandum. Without aid or provocation the hour of revelation had come. His first impulse was to seize it. But she drew it back from him, repeating in a high, strained voice: "What is it? I don't understand. What is it?" "It's nothing--nothing but a business paper. Give it to me." He did not know what to say or do--the scene had changed so suddenly and horribly. Her face looked at him, pale, bewildered, quivering with a terrified surmise. Without a moment's memory of what he had come for, he felt as if all he wanted was to get the paper and hide it. "Give it to me!" he demanded authoritatively. "It doesn't concern you." "It does," she cried, "it does! But what is it? What does it mean?" She looked back at it, and her eyes ran down the list of figures, and then were raised to his, full of a piercingly anguished inquiry. "It's nothing but a business matter between your father and me; and you don't understand business." "I do understand--I understand this!" she answered; and then, with a sudden cry of shame and pain, she threw the crumpled paper on the table and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, how could he!" she whispered. "How could he!" Gault looked at her, mute and motionless. From the moment he had seen her face as she read the paper, he knew that every suspicion he had had was groundless. He was ashamed to speak, almost to move. The sound of his own voice was hateful to him. He stood helplessly looking at her, shaken with pity, passion, and remorse. Finally he said gently: "Look at me, Viola." She obeyed him like a child. Her face was drawn; her eyes, after the moment of meeting his, sank. "Any man would have done what the colonel did. It's nothing of the least importance."