“When is it to be?” he asked abruptly.
Tregarvon, who was still dallying with the black coffee, looked up with a crooked smile.
“When is what to be?” he asked.
“You know what I mean. We gave you your chance with Elizabeth—Miss Richardia and I. I hope you’re not going to tell me that you flunked it.”
The wry smile broke into a short laugh. “Oh, no; I didn’t flunk it. But it’s all over, Poictiers. I’m down and out.”
Carfax was trying to light a cigarette, but the match went black and he did not seem to realize that he had no fire.
“So your crime has found you out, has it?” he said, and the gentle tone seemed to accentuate rather than to soften the accusing assumption.
Tregarvon shook his head. “It was the other way about. Elizabeth came down here for the express purpose of asking my permission to fall in love with some other fellow—no names named.”
“Wh-what!”
“It is even so.”