“Something wrong I knew there would be,” he boomed. “Merciful God in Heaven! He has married a black woman in Africa!”

“Come, come, it’s not so bad as all that,” said Anthony, laughing. “She’s white enough⁠—white all through, bless her.”

“Good. A respectable morganatic affair it can be, then.”

“Not a bit of it. She’s to play queen to my king. It’s no use shaking your head. She’s fully qualified for the post. She’s the daughter of an English peer who dates back to the time of the Conqueror. It’s very fashionable just now for royalties to marry into the aristocracy⁠—and she knows something of Herzoslovakia.”

“My God!” cried George Lomax, startled out of his usual careful speech. “Not⁠—not⁠—Virginia Revel?”

“Yes,” said Anthony. “Virginia Revel.”