Freda found that his essential vapidity was no solace, but an irritant, and that her few draughts of sloe gin, so far from wooing her away from the present woe, seemed to clarify and emphasize it. While he talked, she constantly reviewed her recent episode with Mauney, and the flush of her cheeks, so vivid in the glare of Courtney’s matches, depended less on gin than on a growing mood of expostulation against the nature of things. He, of course, would have been incapable, even in his soberest moments, to divine or even recognize her spiritual state, and could, therefore, be excused, at present, for failing. When she began talking in a happier-sounding tone, he did not know that a veritable blaze of irresponsible temper had kindled. Thick of ear, he missed the irony of her voice. Thicker of brain, he took her words at their face value, unconscious of the tremendous discount that existed.
“You’re a regular old dear, Ted,” she said. “What would I ever do without you? You and your sloe gin! You and your nice cars, Ted, and your yachts. Aren’t you a darling old thing!”
“Glad to get a little appreciation,” he laughed. “Ever since the dance I’ve been waiting to see you.” He paused a moment. “Have you forgiven me yet, girl?” he asked more seriously.
“You stupid boy! A woman always forgives a man for falling in love with her. In fact,” she added thoughtfully, “a woman will forgive anything in the world, but suppression.”
“I couldn’t suppress it, Freda!” he replied, leaning toward her and resting his hand on hers. “I had to tell you I loved you.”
“Really, Ted!” she answered flippantly. “Please go on.”
“But you’re such a firebrand I never know how to take you,” he confessed, “I never know what will please. If I don’t warm up I think your eyes are despising me, and if I do you suddenly teach me my place. And then you tell me you’re practically engaged. Ah, well!” he sighed, dropping his hand reluctantly to his side. “I’ll try to be a platonic friend, though it’s a damned hopeless business. What do you say to a moonlight trip among the islands?”
“There’s no moon, Edward.”
“But we have strong imaginations.”
“Yes, too strong, I’m afraid. How would we go?”