window on the head of the nearest cop--go across again
and get some sort of a worthless job--I speak good enough French to do
it if I wanted--and go to hell like a gentleman without having to worry
about it any longer. And I won't do that because I'm through with it and
the other thing is worth while. So there you are."

"So you don't think you're in love--eh Monsieur Billett?" Oliver puts
irritatingly careful quotation marks around the verb. Ted twists a
little.

"It all seems so blamed impossible," he says cryptically.

"Oh, I wouldn't call Elinor Piper _that_ exactly." Oliver grins. "Even
if she is Peter's sister. Old Peter. She's a nice girl."

"_A nice girl?_" Ted begins rather violently. "She's--why she's--" then
pauses, seeing the trap.

"Oh very well--that's all I wanted to know."

"Oh don't look so much like a little tin Talleyrand, Ollie! I'm _not_
sure--and that's rather more than I'd even hint to anybody else."

"Thanks, little darling." But Ted has been stung too suddenly, even by
Oliver's light touch on something which he thought was a complete and
mortuary secret, to be in a mood for sarcasm.

"Oh, well, you might as well know. I suppose you do."

"All I know is that you seem to have been visiting--Peter--a good deal
this summer."

"Well, it started with Peter."

"It does so often."

"Oh Lord, now I've _got_ to tell you. Not that there's
anything--definite--to tell." He pauses, looking at his hands.

"Well, I've just been telling you how I feel--sometimes. And other
times--being with Elinor--she's been so--kind. But I don't know, Ollie,
honestly I don't, and that's that."

"You see," he begins again, "the other thing--Oh, _Lord_, it's so
tangled up! But it's just this. It sounds--funny--probably--coming from
me--and after France and all that--but I'm not going to--pretend
to myself I'm in love with a girl--just because I may--want to get
married--the way lots of people do. I can't. And I couldn't with a girl
like Elinor anyway--she's too fine."

"She is rather fine," says Oliver appreciatively. "Selective
reticence--all that."

"Well, don't you see? And a couple of times--I've been nearly sure. And
then something comes and I'm not again--not the way I want to be. And
then--Oh, if I were, it wouldn't be much--use--you know--"

"Why not?"

"Well, consider our relative positions--"

"Consider your grandmother's cat! She's a girl--you're a man. She's a
lady--you're certainly a gentle