A story of wishful thinking bearing fruit, and of the bitterness of the fruit. A swift moving tale, holding interest, but in the final analysis, to be rated as good entertainment and no more. An English widow, in moderate circumstances, wins a million francs in a French lottery. She had bought the ticket from a woman of the lower classes, and her right to the winnings were disputed by the woman and her son, who had given his mother the ticket. She spent some of the money on a home for the woman; took the son as her chauffeur, and went out to spend the rest on a season in Egypt with her daughter. Almost unwittingly, she became the victim of a myth of great wealth -- and basked in the sunlight, scarcely concerned with a small nagging fear of discovery. But the new chauffeur and his interest for her daughter; an American banker, very attentive and completely frank about his liking for the sheckels; and finally the arrival of a real millionairess -- all served to make her uneasy. Her daughter's elopement broke her down -- she returned to England and her natural setting -- and there was discovered by the banker, who forgave all and loved her still. Neither a thriller (like The Paradine Case) nor romantic love like The Garden of Allah, but good enough of its kind.