"Is it? Better ask Miss Brentwood about that. She might say it isn't."
"I don't understand," said Kent, dry-tongued.
"Don't you? Perhaps I'd better explain: she might find it a little difficult. You have been laboring under the impression that we are engaged, haven't you?"
"Laboring under the—why, good heavens, man! it's in everybody's mouth!"
"Curious, isn't it, how such things get about," commented the player of long suits. "How do you suppose they get started?"
"I don't suppose anything about it, so far as we two are concerned; I have your own word for it. You said you were the man in possession."
Ormsby laughed again.
"You are something of a bluffer yourself, David. Did you let my little stagger scare you out?"
David Kent pushed his chair back from the table and nailed Ormsby with a look that would have made a younger man betray himself.
"Do you mean to tell me that there is no engagement between you and Miss Brentwood?"