the proffered chair towards her, "but this is business that concerns
you both." He stopped and glanced upwards at the picture. "I suppose
you know nothing of his business? Of course not," he added reassuringly,
"nothing, absolutely nothing, certainly." He said this so kindly, and
yet so positively, as if to promptly dispose of that question before
going further, that she assented mechanically. "Well, then, he's taken
some big risks in the way of business, and--well, things have gone bad
with him, you know. Very bad! Really, they couldn't be worse! Of course
it was dreadfully rash and all that," he went on, as if commenting
upon the amusing waywardness of a child; "but the result is the usual
smash-up of everything, money, credit, and all!" He laughed and
added: "Yes, he's got cut off--mules and baggage regularly routed and
dispersed! I'm in earnest." He raised his eyebrows and frowned slightly,
as if to deprecate any corresponding hilarity on the part of Mrs.
Tucker, or any attempt to make TOO light of the subject, and then
rising, placed his hands behind his back, beamed half-humorously upon
her from beneath her husband's picture, and repeated: "That's so."

Mrs. Tucker instinctively knew that he spoke the truth, and that it was
impossible for him to convey it in any other than his natural manner;
but between the shock and the singular influence of that manner she
could at first only say, "You don't mean it!" fully conscious of
the utter inanity of the remark, and that it seemed scarcely less
cold-blooded than his own.

Poindexter, still smiling, nodded.

She arose with an effort. She had recovered from the first shock, and
pride lent her a determined calmness that more than equaled Poindexter's
easy philosophy.