I suppose I'd thank anybody else. Coming from you, though, I can
only say that such was both my hope and my expectation."
"Oh, you _perfect_ ass!" Both laugh, a little unsteadily.
"Well, Ollie, what think?" says Ted, finding some difficulty with his
words for some reason or other.
"Think? Can't tell, my amorous child. Coldly considered, I think you've
got a good show--and I'm very strong for it, needless to say--and if you
don't go and put it over pretty soon I'll be intensely annoyed--one of the
pleasures I've promised myself for years and years has been getting
most disgracefully fried at your wedding, Ted."
"Well, tonight is going to be zero hour, I think." Ted proceeds with a try
at being flippant and Oliver cackles with mirth.
"I knew it. I knew it. Old Uncle Ollie, the Young Proposer's Guide and
Pocket Companion." Then his voice changes. "Luck," he says briefly.
"Thanks. Need it."
"Of course I'm not worthy," Ted begins diffidently but Oliver stops him.
"They never are. I wasn't. But that doesn't make any difference. You've
got to--_n'est-ce pas?_"
"You old bum! Yes.
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