“George, I’m going to try just once again—without carnations. Just once more, old man. And I thought I’d get your backing.”
“Full and square, Hugo, it’s with you. The cheek of that girl! Shall I ring her up and....”
“For God’s sake, don’t! But you’re a good fellow, George.... I say, if she refuses me again I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Have a drink, old man. Bronx, sherry, or Martini?”
“No more, thanks.”
“Well, best of luck, old man!”
“Thank you, George. Good-bye.”
“See you this evening?”
“Look here, old man, I don’t want to be dramatic and all that, but you may never see me again.” And Hugo was stone-cold serious. He was probably the most serious man in England at that moment. “Good-bye, old man. Thanks so much.”
“Just a moment.” And George Tarlyon went to the writing-table, rapidly wrote a short note, and put the envelope into Hugo’s hand.