I have no ambition to be a millionaire. I was very ambitious to
win my wife."

Scarlett Trent looked at him for a moment open mouthed and open-eyed.
Then he laughed outright and a chill load fell from the heart of
the man who for a moment had forgotten himself. The laugh was
scornful perhaps, but it was not angry.

"Well, you've shut me up," he declared. "You seem a poor sort of
a creature to me, but if you're content, it's no business of mine.
Here buy yourself an overcoat, and drink a glass of wine. I'm off!"

He rose from his seat and threw a bank-note over the table. The
clerk opened it and handed it back with a little start.

"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said humbly, "but you have made
a mistake. This note is for fifty pounds."

Trent glanced at it and held out his hand. Then he paused.

"Never mind," he said, with a short laugh, "I meant to give you a
fiver, but it don't make much odds. Only see that you buy some new
clothes."

The clerk half closed his eyes and steadied himself by grasping the
back of a chair. There was a lump in his throat in earnest now.

"You - you mean it, sir?" he gasped. "I - I'm afraid I can't thank
you!"