“And your father’s millions?”

“Race was welcome to them. Anyway, he would make a better use of them than I ever shall. Anne, what are you thinking about? You’re frowning so.”

“I’m thinking,” I said slowly, “that I almost wish Colonel Race hadn’t made you tell me.”

“No. He was right. I owed you the truth.”

He paused, then said suddenly:

“You know, Anne, I’m jealous of Race. He loves you too⁠—and he’s a bigger man than I am or ever shall be.”

I turned to him, laughing.

“Harry, you idiot. It’s you I want⁠—and that’s all that matters.”