"Well!"--he said slowly--"that is as it may be. All the same, if you leave things much longer, and she falls to pieces as she's been doing lately, there'll be no Teresa left... Bad business this money trouble! Who would have thought that solemn old buffer could have been such a giddy owl?" Dane sat, unlighted cigarette in hand, gazing at him in dismay. "What money trouble?" "Mean to say you don't _know_? They didn't tell you?" "Not a word. Money was not mentioned." "Odd!" The Squire cocked a suspicious eyebrow. "_Very_ odd, considering your position. Evans told me. No secret about it. It's over the whole place. The old man had been selling out shares, and reinvesting under the advice of some unprincipled scoundrel. The old story--a huge fraud, got up for the special benefit of rural investors, ten per cent, interest, paid once; and then--smash! The poor old fellow got the news at the breakfast table, called out to his wife that he was ruined, and fizzled up, then and there. Had a stroke, and died in her arms. Far as Evans understands there'll be nothing left for 'em but a twopenny pension." Dane was silent, digesting the startling news. The _menage_ at the Cottage had suggested a comfortable, if modest income; in the one official interview which he had had with the Major, he had been informed that Teresa would eventually inherit some seven or eight thousand pounds. Now, by all accounts, the prospective fortune had vanished, and she was left penniless, dependent on--? On what? The answer to that question came in a rush of tender understanding. Poor, poor, little girl! Was _this_ the reason of her coldness? Did she fear that a sense of duty would urge him to a marriage from which his heart still shrank? Poor, proud, little girl! While she had something to give, she could plead her own cause, but a penniless Teresa would accept no favour. On the whole the news of the Major's losses brought Dane more relief than sorrow. It solved the mystery of his chilling reception. "Humph--yes! bad business--bad business," soliloquised the Squire. "Eldest daughter came in for a bit of money, but she's kicked over the traces... Rather a pill for her to settle down again with the old woman,--what? Of course, you can look after Teresa..." "I can," Dane said. After a moment's pause he continued deliberately. "I shall arrange for our marriage to take place as early as possible. Mrs Mallison may have conventional scruples... she probably will, but she'll have to give way. I can't stay longer than Friday, and I must get things settled before I leave." He rose, and straightened his shoulders with the air of a man throwing off a weight. "You--er--you will tell Lady Cassandra my plans, and explain to her that my time is so limited that I--er--"