The terrible Don Marcelo embraced them with moist eyes, and the two had to exert themselves to prevent his accompanying them to the station.
Outside of his home he was slipping about humbly as though mutely asking pardon of the many people around him.

To him they all appeared his superiors.

It was a period of economic crisis; for the time being, the rich also were experiencing what it was to be poor and worried; the banks had suspended operations and were paying only a small part of their deposits.

For some weeks the millionaire was deprived of his wealth, and felt restless before the uncertain future.

How long would it be before they could send him money from South America?
Was war going to take away fortunes as well as lives?
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