It must have been about fifteen minutes later that Simonetta showed up, bearing a sealed cup of tea and one of coffee. "So that's where you are!" she said. "I was taking something to Joe, and thought maybe I'd find you along the way." Westervelt deduced that she had phoned the operator. "You can have the coffee," she said, setting it beside his magazine. "Joe said he'd rather have tea this time around." Westervelt looked up. Simonetta saw his eye and pursed her lips. "Well!" "How does it look?" asked Westervelt glumly. "Kind of pretty. If I remember the ones my brothers used to bring home, it will be ravishingly beautiful by tomorrow!" "That's what I was afraid of," said Westervelt. Simonetta laughed. She set the tea aside and pulled out a chair. "I don't think it's really that bad, Willie," she told him. "I was only fooling." "It shows though, huh?" "Oh ... yes ... it shows." "That's what I like about you, Si," said Westervelt. "You don't ask nasty, embarrassing questions like how it happened or which door closed on me." Following which he told her nearly the whole story, leaving out only the true origin of the quarrel. He suspected that Simonetta could put two and two together, but he meant to tell nobody about the start of it. "Ah, Willie," she said with a grin at the conclusion, "if you had to fall for a blonde, why couldn't you pick little Pauline?" "I guess you're right." "Now, don't take _that_ so seriously too! Beryl's a good sort, on the whole. In a day or two, this will all blow over. Come on with me to see Joe, then we'll go back and say you got something in your eye." "But when?" "Oh ... during the message from Yoleen. You didn't want to bother anybody at the time, so you foolishly kept rubbing until it got sore." "That's all right," said Westervelt, "but Beryl knows different." "If she opens her mouth, I shall personally punch _her_ in the eye!" declared Simonetta. She giggled at the idea, and he found himself grinning. They went along the corridor to deliver the tea to Rosenkrantz, and then returned to the main office. An air of complete informality prevailed, a reaction from the scene they had witnessed. There was a good deal of wandering about with drinks, sitting on desks, and inconsequential chatter. No one seemed to want to talk shop, and Westervelt guessed that Smith was just as pleased to be able to kill some time. He himself quietly slipped around the corner to his own desk, where he propped his heels up and sipped his coffee. Westervelt listened as Parrish and Smith told a few jokes. The stories tended to be more ironic than funny, and no one was expected to laugh out loud. Pauline, from her switchboard, buzzed the phone on Simonetta's desk, since most of those present had gravitated to that end of the office. Smith looked around in the middle of an account of his struggles with his radio-controlled lawn mower. "Want to take that, Willie?" he said, with a bare suggestion of a wink.