Severance Oliver
could have shouted aloud with immense improper joy, for he knew by the way
Ted's hands moved that they were going back in the car together.
Ted was on his feet and his voice was as grave as if he were apologizing
for having insulted Mrs. Severance in public, but under the meaninglessness
of his actual words it was wholly firm and controlled.
"I'm awfully sorry--I've got to go right away. You'll think me immensely
rude but it's something that's practically life-and-death." "Really?" said
Mrs. Severance and Oliver could have clapped his hands at her accent. Now
that the battle had ended bloodlessly, he supposed he might be permitted to
applaud, internally at least. And "I'm sorry--but this is over," said every
note in Ted's voice and "Lost have I? Well then--" every note in hers.
It occurred to Oliver that things were badly arranged--all this--and he was
the only audience.
Life seemed sudden lavish in giving him benefit performances of other
people's love-affairs--he supposed it was all part of the old and deathless
jest.
And then, like a prickling of cold, there passed over him once more that
little sense of danger.
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