ust finished, that's all. Can't
kick very well. Oh no," as she started to speak, "it doesn't hurt to
talk about, really. Helps, more. And Peter and Ted help too--especially
Ted."

He watched her narrowly--changing color like that must mean a good deal
with Elinor.

Then "Why Ted?" she said, almost as if she were talking to herself
and then started to try and make him see that that didn't matter--a
spectacle to which he remained gratifiedly blind. He addressed his next
remarks at the dish of jam so that she wouldn't be able to catch his
eye.

"Oh, I'm not slamming Peter's sympathetic soul, El, you know I'm
not--but Ted and I just happened to go through such a lot of the war and
after it together--and then Ted saw a good deal more of Nancy. Peter's
delightful. And kind. But he does assume that because lots of people get
engaged and disengaged again all over the lot these days as if they were
cutting for bridge-partners there isn't anything particularly serious in
things like that. Nothing to really make you make faces and bust,
that is. Well, ours happened to be one of the other kind--that's the
difference. And Peter, well, Peter isn't exactly the soul of constancy
when it comes to such matters--"

"Peter--oh Peter--if you knew the millions of girls that Peter's kept
pictures of--"

"Well, I've heard all about the last hundred thousand or so, I think.
But there's perfect safety in thousands. It's when you start being so
stalwart and sure and manly about one--"

Oliver spread out his hands. Elinor's color--the way it fluctuated
at least--was most encouraging. So was the fact that she had tried to
butter her last muffin with the handle of her knife. "But I don't see
_how_ if a girl really cared about a man she could let anything--" she
said and then stopped with a burning flush. And now Oliver knew that
he had to be very careful. He looked over his tools and decided that
infantile bitterness was best.

"Girls are girls," he said shortly, stabbing a muffin. "They tell you
they do and then they tell you they don't--that's them."

"Oliver Crowe, I never heard such a nasty, childish seventeen-year-old
idea from you in my whole life!" Oh what would calm Mrs. Piper say
if she could see Elinor, eyes cloudy with anger, leaning across the
tea-wagon and emphasizing her points by waves of a jammy knife as she
defends constancy and romance! "They do _not_! When a girl cares for a
man--and she knows he cares for her--she does