Ethan Ffrench opened his lips, and closed them again without speech. It had not been his life's habit to let people alone and the art was acquired with difficulty.
"I admit I do not comprehend the feelings you describe," he conceded, at last. "But there is one person who has the right to decide whether David shall continue this risk of his life. Emily, do you wish the car withdrawn?"
There was a gasp from the other two men.
"I?" the young girl exclaimed, amazed. "I can call him here—safe—"
Her voice died out as Lestrange's car roared past, overtaking two rivals on the turn and sliding between them with an audacity that provoked rounds of applause from the spectators. To call him in from that, to have him safe with her—the mere thought was a delight that caught her breath. Yet, she knew Lestrange.
The three men watched her in keen suspense. The Mercury car had passed twice again before she raised her head, and in that space of a hundred seconds Emily reached the final unselfishness.
"What David wants," she said. "Uncle, what David wants."
"You're a brick!" cried Dick, in a passion of relief. "Emily, you're a brick!"
She looked at him with eyes he never forgot.
"If anything happens to him, I hope I die too," she answered, and drew the silk veil across her face.