“Have I asked you to, Stephen?”
“No; but—”
“Have I?” I demanded.
“No; but—”
“If Lovey did it it was without any knowledge of mine,” I continued. “I practically killed him, God forgive me, for doing it!”
“You’re both off the track,” Cantyre broke in. “You don’t know what I—what I want to say.”
“Very well, then, Stephen. Tell us,” Regina said, tranquilly.
He spoke stammeringly. “It’s—it’s—just this: This is no time—for—for—love.”
We stared again, waiting for him to go on.