he news that Miss Nancy Ellicott of St. Louis has eloped
with the Prince of Wales, wakes, to hear someone stumbling around the
room in the dark.

"That you, Ted?"

"Yes. Go to bed."

"Can't--I'm there. What's time?"

"'Bout five, I guess." Ted doesn't seem to want to be very
communicative.

"Um." A pause while Oliver remembers what it was he wanted to ask Ted
about and Ted undresses silently.

"Well--congratulations?"

Ted's voice is very even, very controlled.

"Sorry, Ollie. Not even with all your good advice."

"_Honestly_?"

"Uh-huh." "Well, look here--better luck next time, anyway. It's all--"

"It's all over, Ollie. I'm getting out of here tomorrow before most of
them are up. Special breakfast and everything--called back to town by
urgent legal affairs." He laughs, rather too barkingly for Oliver to
like it.

"Oh, Hell!"

"Correct."

"Well, she's--"

"She's an angel, Ollie. But I had to tell her--about France. That broke
it. D'you wonder?"

"Oh, you poor, damn, honorable, simple-minded, blessed, blasted fool!
_Before_ you'd really begun?"

Ted hesitates. "Y-yes."

"Oh, hell!"

"Well, if all you can do is to lie back in bed there and call on your
Redeemer when---Sorry, Ollie. But I'm not feeling too pleasant tonight."

"Well, I ought to know--"

"Forgot. You ought. Well--you do."

"But I don't see anything yet that--"

"She does."

"But--"

"Oh, Ollie, what's the use? We can both of us play Job's comforter to
the other because we're pretty good friends. But you can see how my
telling her would--oh well there isn't much percentage in hashing it
over. I've done what I've done. If I'd known I'd have to pay for it this
way, I wouldn't have--but there, we're all made like that. There's one
thing I can't do--and that is get away with a thing like that on false
pretences--I'd rather shoot the works on one roll and crap than use the
sort of dice that behave. I went into the thing with my eyes open--now
I've got to pay for it--well, what of it? It wouldn't make all the
difference to a lot of girls, perhaps--a lot of the best--but it does
to Elinor and she's the only person I want. If I can't have her, I don't
want anything--but if I've made what all the Y.M.C.A. Christians that
ever sold nickel bars of chocolate for a quarter would call a swine out
of myself--well, I'm going to be a first-class swine. So put on my glad
rags, Josie, I'm going to Rector's and hell!"

All this has been li