The events of the evening had come too close, at moments, to grotesque tragedy for Oliver to pretend to misunderstand him. “Oh, that's all right. And anyhow I owed you one for that time with the gendarmes in Brest.” “Maybe,” but Ted didn't seem to be convinced. “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. The silence was broken by Ted's saying violently, “I _will_ marry her! I don't give a damn what's happened.” “Good egg. Of course you will.” Oliver chuckled. Ted turned to him anxiously after another silence. “Look Ollie, that bump on my head--you've seen the size it is. Well, is it going to just show up like _thunder_ at this silly dance?” XLV Half-past five in the morning and Oliver undressing wearily by the light of a pale pink dawn. Now and then he looks at his bed with a gloating expression that almost reaches the proportions of a lust--he is so tired he can hardly get off his clothes. The affairs of the last twenty-four hours mix in his mind like a jumble of colored postcards, all loose and disconnected and brightly unreal. Ted--Elinor--Mrs. Severance--Mr. Piper--the dance he has just left--sleep--oh--sleep!