“Promises to be one of those merry little 262 meals when everybody present is attended by a tame skeleton,” Billy whispered, “except us, Caroline.”
“I don’t feel that we have any right to be so happy with the whole continent of Europe in the state it’s in,” Caroline whispered in reply.
“I feel better about the continent of Europe than I did a while back,” Billy said, contentedly.
“Hello, everybody,” Preston Eustace said as Michael held the door for him. “How’s everything, Caroline?”
“All right,” Caroline said. Then she added unnecessarily, “You—you know Betty, don’t you?”
“I used to know Betty,” he said slowly.
The two looked at each other, with that look of incredulity with which lovers sometimes greet each other after absence and estrangement. “This can’t be you,” their eyes seem to be saying, “I’ve disposed of you long since, God help me!”
“How do you do, Preston?” Betty said, giving him her hand. Then she smiled faintly, and added with a caricature of her usual manner: “Lovely weather we’re having for this time of year, aren’t we?”
“I’m very fond of you, Betty,”—Dick smiled as she sank into the chair beside him and Preston turned to his sister. “I think you’re a little sport.”