says Ted.

"Wish you could." Then later, "Thanks." "Welcome."

Both smoke and are silent for a time, remembering small things out of
the last eight years.

"But what are you going to do, Ollie, now you've kissed the great god
Advertising a fond good-by?"

Ollie stirs uneasily.

"Dunno--exactly. I told you about those two short stories Easten wanted
me to take out of my novel? Well, I've done it and sent 'em in--and
he'll buy 'em all right."

"That's fine!"

"It's a little money, anyhow. And then--remember Dick Lamoureux?"

"Yes."

"Got a letter from him right after--I came back from St. Louis.
Well, he's got a big job with the American Express in Paris--European
Advertising Manager or something like that--he's been crazy to have
either of us come over ever since that idea of the three of us getting
an apartment on the _Rive Gauche_ fell through. Well, he says, if I can
come over, he'll get me some sort of a job--not much to go on at
first but they want people who are willing to stay--enough to live on
anyway--I want to get out of the country, Ted."

"Should think you would. Good Lord--Paris! Why you lucky, lucky Indian!"
says Ted affectionately. "When'll you leave?" "Don't know. He said cable
him if I really decided--think I will. They need men and I can get a
fair enough letter from Vanamee. I've been thinking it over ever since
the letter came--wondering if I'd take it. Think I will now. Well."

"Well, I wish I was going along, Crowe."

And this time Oliver is really able to smile.

"No, you don't."

"Oh well--but, honestly--well, no, I suppose I don't. And I suppose
_that's_ something you know all about, too, you--private detective!"

"Private detective! Why, you poor ass, if you haven't noticed how I've
been playing godmother to you all the way through this house-party--"

"I have. I suppose I'd thank anybody else. Coming from you, though, I
can only say that such was both my hope and my expectation."

"Oh, you _perfect_ ass!" Both laugh, a little unsteadily.

"Well, Ollie, what think?" says Ted, finding some difficulty with his
words for some reason or other.

"Think? Can't tell, my amorous child. Coldly considered, I think you've
got a good show--and I'm very strong for it, needless to say--and if you
don't go and put it over pretty soon I'll be intensely annoyed--one of
the pleasures I've promised myself for years and years has been getting
most disgracefully fried at your wedding, Ted."