Tregarvon ignored Carfax’s companion, and the derisive confidence to which she had made no reply. “If I had the nerve, I suppose I might kill another week dragging the thing through the wood by half-inches with a block and tackle and man-power,” he offered.
“Dear me! And in the meantime the enemy—whoever he is—will be storing up ammunition and getting ready to efface you once more.”
Tregarvon turned away.
“I don’t believe I shall give ‘the enemy’ another chance at me. Will you be down to dinner?”
“Oh, hold on; don’t go off in a huff that way!” Carfax protested in mock concern. “We have had our little joy-ride, and I was just taking Miss Richardia home. Wait a minute and tell us how you are going to block ‘the enemy’s’ game.”
Tregarvon was still ignoring Miss Birrell.
“Thaxter sent me a note this morning. Consolidated Coal is ready to do business with us.”
“With you, you mean; I am only a good-natured bystander. What does Mr. Thaxter say?”
For the first time in the brisk exchange of question and answer, Tregarvon took the silent member of the trio into consideration.
“All this doesn’t interest Miss Richardia. I can talk the business matter over with you later on.”