"That was jocose though. Even
at the worst." The words came with effort. "This was--serious. I owe you
about everything, I guess."
"Oh, go take a flying leap at a galloping goose!"
"Go do it yourself. Oh, Oliver, you ass, I _will_ be pretty and polite
about your saving my life." And both laughed and felt easier. "Saved a good
deal more than that as a matter of fact--or what counts for more with me,"
Ted added soberly. "Then the letter I brought _was_ satisfactory?"
"Satisfactory? Gee!" said Ted intensely, and again they fell silent.
Some miles later Oliver added casually
"You won't have any trouble with our late hostess, by the way. Though she
knows all about it."
"She knows?"
Oliver couldn't resist.
"And quite approves. But she's--a sport." Then for Ted's sake, "Besides,
you see, it would crab her game completely."
"I'll tell Elinor, though," said Ted, stubbornly.
"About her father? You can't."
"Oh, Lord, no. About myself. Don't have to give names and addresses."
"Afterwards."
"Well, yes--afterwards. Though it makes me feel like a swine."
"Nobody our age who hasn't been one or felt like one--some of the
time--except Christers and the dead," said Oliver, and they proceeded for
several minutes on the profundity of that aphorism.
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