Back to the street and a slight dispute
with a policeman as regarded the place where Oliver had parked his car. He
looked at his watch just before poking the self-starter--Mr. Piper's train
must be halfway to New York by now. He set his lips and turned down 44th
Street toward the Avenue.
Fourth floor Ted had said. The elevator went much too quickly for
Oliver--he was standing in front of a most non-committal door-bell before
he had arranged the racing tumult of thought in his mind enough to be in
any measure sure of just what the devil he was going to say.
Moreover he was oppressed by a familiar and stomachless sensation--the
sensation he always had when he tried to high-dive and stood looking
gingerly down from a shaky platform at water that seemed a thousand miles
away and as flat and hard as a blue steel plate. There wasn't any guide
in any Manual of Etiquette he had ever heard of on What to Say When
Interrupting a Tete-a-Tete between Your Best Friend and a Dangerous
And Beautiful Woman. He wondered idly if Ted would ever speak to him
again--Mrs. Severance certainly wouldn't--and he rather imagined that even
if Ted and Elinor did get married he would hardly be the welcome guest he
had always expected to be there.
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