“She's a lovelier woman than you and I are fit to look at,” said Chevenix, “if you ask me.”
“Damn you, I know all about that. D'you think I want telling, now that I can't get her? Well, then I found out what was the matter with me—and then we cleared the air.”
“Who had stuffed it up to begin with?” Chevenix murmured; but Ingram ignored him.
“I told her the whole thing—”
“After she had found it out!” cried Chevenix with energy. “Let's have cards on the table. I told Vicky all about it at a dance—and Vicky told her.”
“I told her,” Ingram said, “that I was in love with her, and promised to behave—and so I should have, only—”
“Only you didn't, old chap.”
“She loved me—there was no stopping it then. The thing was done. Mind you, her people knew it all, too.”
“The mother always was a fool,” Chevenix agreed. “And she liked you.”
“I know she did. I took care of that.”