Then he heard her say in a
voice of utter anger,
"How can you say anything like that, how can you? You are being the most
hateful person that ever lived. Why if I really cared for anyone--if I ever
really cared--" and then she began to cry most steadily and whole-heartedly
into her napkin and Oliver in spite of all the generous plaudits he was
receiving from various parts of his mind for having carried delicate
business successfully to a most dramatic conclusion, wondered what in the
name of Hymen his cue was now. Some remnants of diplomacy however kept him
from doing anything particularly obtrusive and, after he had received an
official explanation of nervous headache with official detachment, the end
of tea found them being quite cheerful together. Neither alluded directly
to what both thought about most but in spite of that each seemed inwardly
convinced of being completely if cryptically understood by the other and
when the noise of the first returning motor brought a friendly plotter's
"You talk to them--they mustn't see me this way," from Elinor and a casual
remark from Oliver that he felt sure he would have to run into town for
dinner--family had forwarded a letter from an editor this morning--so
if she wanted anything done--they seemed to comprehend each other very
thoroughly.
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