“But it is true.” Almost he had persuaded himself that it was; that it must be.
“The Olneys are having the Junior Masters to dine this evening. I know because I was asked; but of course I wanted to be here, where you are. Let me call Junior on the ‘phone and ask him.”
Banneker flushed. “You can’t do that, Io.”
“Why not?”
“Why, it isn’t the sort of thing that one can very well do,” he said lamely.
“Not ask Junior if he and Bob Laird are old chums and call each other by their first names?”
“How silly it would sound!” He tried to laugh the proposal away. “In any case, it wouldn’t be conclusive. Besides, it’s too late by this time.”
“Too late?”
“Yes. The forms are closed.”
“You couldn’t change it?”