“‘I told you, Ralph, that I was an infernal fool and that’s putting it mildly. I loved her and I was fool enough for a brief, mad period to hope--to believe--that she loved me. Lady Brooke happened to speak her name one night and incidentally mentioned a few details concerning her. Lady Brooke said she was a favorite with the Queen and that she was considered to be one of the richest heiresses of the Court. As she said the words, Ralph, I went sick all through me. I felt as when that Russian bullet hit me at Pedershof, for I had known nothing of this and here, it seemed, was an unexpected barrier between us. Lady Brooke, however, went on to say--and she warned me that this was strictly confidential, of course--that this report, like many other reports, had little foundation in fact; that in reality the lady’s money was largely in expectancy as the heiress of her maternal uncle, Sir Ray Murray, the head of the Copper Trust; that Sir Ray was engaged in a war to the death with Sir Brussels Page and that the whole thing might result in Sir Ray’s financial annihilation, in which case the lady’s supposed millions would dwindle to nothing. It seems a strange, I might say almost a mean thing, Ralph, to rejoice at some form of ill-fortune touching the woman you adore, but the truth is the truth--I did rejoice at those words of Lady Brooke. Those millions would have been a barrier between us. Without them, I felt she was nearer to me. Lady Brooke is a handsome woman--although I never particularly took to her--but she never looked so handsome to me as at that moment. I could have laughed out--laughed out loud and long--as she spoke pityingly of the almost certain loss of those confounded millions. Just as if the man who wins her for her own sweet sake alone will not be richer than the royal heir who comes to his throne.’” “He said that--he said that! You heard him say that?” murmured Dorothy, from her chair, in a strangely muffled voice. “Yes; of course that’s what he said,” replied Beatrice, engrossed in her story. “Am I not giving you the exact words?” “Go on--go on.” “There now! You’ve thrown me all out by interrupting and I’ve lost the thread.” “Please forgive me. What did they say next?” “Well,” resumed Beatrice, “Captain Swords asked him why he had given up hope. Why was it that he thought the lady didn’t care for him?” “Yes; yes!”