"_Must_ you go?" she repeated with merciless mocking. "When it _has_ been
fun--and I don't suppose we'll ever see each other again in all our lives?
For I can hardly come out to Melgrove now, can I, Oliver? And after you've
had a quiet brotherly talk with her, I suppose I'll even have to give up
lunching with Louise. And as for Ted--poor Ted--poor Mr. Billett with all
his decorations of the Roller Towel, First Class--Mr. Billett must be a
child that has been far too well burnt this evening, not, in any imaginable
future to dread the fire?"
Both flushed, Ted deeper perhaps than Oliver, but neither answered. There
really did not seem to be anything for them to say. She moved gently toward
the door--the ideal hostess. And as she moved she talked and every word
she said was a light little feathered barb that fell on them softly as
snowflakes and stuck like tar.
"I hope you won't mind if I send you wedding presents--both of you--oh, of
course I'll be quite anonymous but it will be such a pleasure--if you'll
both of you only marry nice homey girls!" Ted started at this as if he
had been walking barefoot and had stepped on a wasp and she caught him
instantly.
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