“Uncle Byrd’s Colorado millions?--yes. And I am rather sorry; for Elizabeth’s sake, not less than for my own. We were engaged before Uncle Byrd died, and he knew it. It was entirely unnecessary--not to say cruel--for him to leave his fortune to Elizabeth on the condition that she shouldn’t change her mind and marry somebody else, and to me in case she did.” Carfax did not comment upon the cruelty. He was perfectly familiar with the terms of Mr. Byrd Tregarvon’s will. Instead, he said: “You hear from Elizabeth regularly, I suppose?” “Oh, certainly. Duty is always written out in large capitals for Elizabeth.” “And you think she writes to you from a sense of duty?” “We needn’t put it just that way. But I have no doubt she conceives it to be her duty to a man she has promised to marry.” “You shouldn’t say such things as that, Vance, not even to me,” corrected the other man quickly. “I know I shouldn’t. It is only one of the many ways in which Uncle Byrd’s millions corrode things. Without meaning to, the old uncle stood matters upon an entirely different, and most difficult, footing for us two. We meant to marry: we had passed our word to the various members of the clan that we were going to marry; and the clan was glad because it had always counted upon that outcome for us. So far as a man up a tree might discern, it was a perfectly free choice for both of us.” “Go on,” said Carfax, when Tregarvon stopped to refill his pipe. “Then one day, out of a clear sky, _zip!_ comes Uncle Byrd with his will and his millions. After which, of course, Elizabeth can’t throw me over without impoverishing herself; and it is equally out of the question for me to let her do it. Moreover, it is imperatively up to me to make good before I marry her. If I don’t, uncharitable people will say that I let go of the business end of things because I knew that my wife’s money would stop all the holes to keep the wind away. There you have it--sermon length.” Carfax smoked in sober silence for quite a few minutes. Then he said mildly: “Do you know, Vance, I don’t more than half like your attitude--as you’ve just expressed it?” Tregarvon’s smile was a grin. “Tell me what there is about it that you don’t like, and I’ll change it, Poictiers. You are by long odds the best friend I have in the world, and I’d change a dozen attitudes for you, any day in the week.” “It isn’t lover-like,” Carfax objected. “You mean that it is too purely cousinly? I can’t very well help that phase of it, you know; we _are_ cousins, and we have been trotting around together, more or less, ever since Noah walked out of the ark. Nothing like that for killing sentiment.” “But sentiment shouldn’t be killed, if you are going to marry Elizabeth,” insisted the purist.