The Final was due to begin on Thursday.
"That's all right," Lucas answered, with tact. "That's all right. I'd thought of the exam., of course. You'll have to-morrow to recover. It'll do you all the good in the world. And you know you're more than ready for the thing. You don't want to be overtrained, my son. Besides, you'll sail through it. As for 'can't,' 'can't' be damned. You've got to."
A telegraph boy, after hesitating at the empty cubicle, came straight into the room.
"Name of Cannon?"
George nodded, trembling.
The telegram read:
"Impossible to-day.—MARGUERITE."
It was an incredible telegram, as much by what it said as by what it didn't say. It overthrew George.
"Seven forty-five, and I'll drive you round," said Lucas.
"Tis well," said George.