"Do you think we are going to be?" Lois drew up a stool and seated herself at Beatrice's side. Something in the other's firm, gentle hold and in the low voice made her heart ache. "I don't know. I feel as though we were already." "Don't feel that, because it is not possible. Mrs. Travers, do you know who it was who came between you and John Stafford?" Lois' head sank. "I see that you do. Yes, I did my best. I wanted his position--and money. Are you still my friend?" Lois met the grave, questioning eyes with a sudden energy. "Yes. That is all over and past. I like you now. I liked you the moment you entered the room. You seemed different." Beatrice smiled faintly. "And you, too, are different from any one I have ever known. Another woman would not have been able to forgive as you have done. I have spoiled your life. I can see that." Lois pressed her hand. "Hush! You must not say so. I am married--" "Lois, I have spoiled your life. I have come here to tell you the truth, and you also must be truthful. For pity's sake, let us put lies and humbug on one side. I am sick of them!" For a moment she seemed to fight desperately with herself, and then she went on more quietly: "I have spoiled your life. I have spoiled the life of a man who trusted me. I have spoiled my own. That is what I have done in the twenty-five years given me to work in. I have lied and cheated my way through. And this is the end--miserable bankruptcy." "Yes," Lois said, nodding. "I heard about it." "About what? Has your husband told you?" "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."