"From Mrs. North a week ago, when she let Aurora come to me. But it is no secret now, as it has been in the newspapers. I have kept them from Aurora. She is so happy here with you--I hadn't the heart to do anything to destroy her pleasure." "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." "I wish I could reassure you," slowly. "What proofs have you?" "Isn't my word enough?" "Yes, but----" "You want confirmation. Very well!" Patricia walked to the library table, opened its drawer, and took out the _Sun_ and _Herald_. As she opened them two paper cuttings and a pair of scissors fell to the floor. She picked them up before DeLaunay could reach her, opening the newspapers, both of which bore signs of mutilation. And while he wondered what she was about to do or say, she resumed calmly, even indifferently. "I had clipped these papers that Aurora might not see them. Since you profess some incredulity, perhaps you'd rather read for yourself." And she handed them to him. He adjusted his monocle with trembling fingers, and began reading the slips, his lips moving, his eyes dilated, while Patricia watched him, her eyes masked by her fingers. She saw him read one article through, then scan the other, his lips compressed, his small chin working forward. "Five million dollars!" he whispered at last. "It is terrible--terrible. And there will be nothing at all." "It looks so, doesn't it?" she replied. "Read on."