David moved a step nearer; the woe had gone from his face.
“Gosh, then, leave me out,” he said. “I—I prefer being left out, if that’s it.”
“Really?” asked Maddox.
“Yes, rather, and—and thanks ever so much.”
There had been no need for more than these jerked telegraphic sentences, but David went up town, treading on air, with a secret heavenly pride that was certainly among the “rippingest feelings” he had ever had. He congratulated Ozzy with complete sincerity. . . . And here was Frank himself sliding down the crumbling sand-path with towels.
Frank threw a towel at him and knocked off his hat.
“Mother’s lunching out,” he said, “so we can bathe just as long as we please without being late. Oh, and she said to me, ‘need you’—that’s you—‘go away on Saturday?’ I said I’d ask you.”
David had no hesitation over this.
“No, of course I needn’t,” he said. “At least——”
“At least?” said Frank, emptying the sand out of his shoes.