"Oh, yes, I know," she interrupted, "but Miss North is different. She has not the social ambitions of other girls. Miss North is romantic but quite unspoiled. Has it occurred to you that perhaps she may hope for a somewhat different relation between you?"

"We are good friends--very good friends. She is enchanting," he said with enthusiasm, "so innocent of the ways of the world, so talented, so charming. We shall be very happy."

"I hope so," dryly.

He examined her shrewdly.

"You have her happiness close to your heart! Is it not so? What is to be feared? I shall be very good to her. We understand each other. She will be glad of the splendor of my ancient name, and I desire the means to restore my estates and place myself in a position of influence among my people. I care for her as one cares for a lovely flower--but the mind--the soul, Madame, I have found them--elsewhere," he leaned forward and touched her fingers with his own.

Patricia's gaze was far away. It seemed as though she was unconscious of his touch. "It is a pity," she said, softly, "a great pity. I am very sorry."

"Could you not learn to care a little?"

She turned on him then, but her voice was still gentle.

"We are not in France, Monsieur," she said coldly.

"What does that matter?" he urged. "Love knows nothing of geography.

Love is a cosmopolite. It cares not for time or place or convention. I care for you very much, Madame, and whatever you may think, it makes me happy to tell you so."

"And Aurora?" Patricia reiterated the word, like the clanging of an alarm bell.

The Baron relaxed his grasp and lowered his head.

She leaned forward, elbow on knee, looking into the fire.

"You know, Baron, I'm very sorry for Aurora."

As he made no comment she went on:

"She has always been a very sweet, amiable, honorable child. I'm very fond of her. She was very much alone with her books and her family. She has always lived in an atmosphere of her own--an atmosphere that she made for herself, without companions of her own age. Her mother brought her up without the slightest knowledge of the guile, the deceit, or wickedness of the world in which some day she was to live. They used even to scan the newspapers before she was permitted to read them, and clip out objectionable paragraphs. Even I have done that since she has been here visiting me. Her father was always too busy making money to bother. At the age of twenty she is still a dreamer, old in nothing but years, living in an idyl of her own, the sleeping princess in the fairy-tale whom you, the gallant prince, have awakened with a kiss."

DeLaunay's shoulders moved slightly as he sighed.

"That kiss, Monsieur! You have awakened her," she went on, "to what?"

She paused abruptly and turned toward him for a reply.

"Your question is hardly flattering to my vanity," he said, smiling.

"There are women----"

"She is a child."

"All women are children. I shall find means to make her happy."

Patricia resumed her study of the fire.

"I hope so. With money your opportunities for happiness would be greater. Without money----" she paused and shook her head slowly.

The Baron turned abruptly, but Patricia's gaze was fixed upon the fire.

When he spoke his tones were suppressed--his manner constrained.

"Madame--what do you mean?"

She faced him slowly, her expression gently sympathetic.

"Have you not heard?"

"Heard what, Madame?"

"Of Monsieur North's misfortune--you must have seen it in the newspapers----"

"The newspapers! No--what is it?"

"Monsieur North has lost his money."

DeLaunay rose quickly, one hand before him as though to ward off a blow.

"What you tell me is impossible," he said thickly.

"No," gravely. "It is true."

He stared at her unbelieving, but her eyes met his calmly, eagerly, and in their depths he saw only pity.

"Would I not have heard this dreadful thing, Madame? Aurora would have told me."

"She might have told you if she had known."

"She did not know?"

"They want to save her the pain. They always have. That is one reason why she is stopping here with me. Don't you understand?"

DeLaunay showed other signs of inquietude and was now pacing the rug nervously.

"It is incredible!" he was saying, "incredible! I cannot--no----" And he stopped before her. "No, I will not believe it!"

Patricia clasped her hands over her knees and was looking very gravely into the fire. She had the air of a person who is mourning the loss of a very dear friend.

"How do you know this?" he asked again, anxiously.

"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."