“I never heard of anything so ripping,” he said. “Though it sounds rather cheek.”
Maddox sat up.
“That’s what you’ve done,” he said. “And if it was cheeky, the other name of that is salvation.”
There was silence a moment, and probably David had never known such intense happiness as he tasted then. And, just because he was feeling so deeply, the idea of anything approaching sentiment was impossible. It had been said, and the harvest was garnered.
Frank felt that, too; they could not feel differently from each other just then, and away went the whole subject, a mountain a few minutes ago, and now light as thistledown on a summer wind.
“It’s done,” he said. “Oh, what was the other thing we brought out? ‘Atalanta in Calydon,’ wasn’t it? First chorus.”
“Yes, that would be ripping,” said David. “At the same time it’s just struck three, and we were to play golf at three.”
“Jove, so we were! How you must have jawed!”
For one second David was not quite certain whether Frank was trying to get a rise out of him or not, with such naturalness did he speak.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m afraid I did.”