Still he makes a last effort.
"Now don't start getting all tied up about that. Keep your mind on
Elinor."
"That's not--hard."
"Good--I see that you have all the proper reactions. And you'll excuse me
for saying that _I_ don't think she's too good for you--and even if she
were she'd have to marry somebody, you know--and when you put it, put it
straight, and let Paris and everything else you're worrying about go plumb
to hell! And that's good advice."
"I know it. I'll tell you of course."
"Well, I should _think_ you would!"
Oliver looks at his watch. "Great Scott--they'll be unmasking in twenty
minutes. And I've got to go back and cut Juliet out of the herd and take
her to supper--"
They rise and look at each other. Then
"Hope this is the last time, Ted, old fel--which isn't any reflection on
the last eight years odd," says Oliver slowly, and their hands grip once
and hard. Then they both start talking fast as they walk back to the house
to cover the unworthy emotion. But just as they are going in the door,
Oliver hisses into Ted's ear, an advisory whisper,
"Now go and eat all the supper you can, you idiot--it always helps.
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