"No thank you!" she snapped.
"Mad at me?"
"What do you think?" Her tone was cool enough to freeze lava.
"You have every right to be!" That answer, I had found by experience, was unanswerable.
"What do you mean?" she asked in some bewilderment. "Yes, thanks, I will have a drink after all. You see, Winnie, after we had talked it all over the other night after the Bond Rally Dance and realized how we felt about it all, the four of us decided to be—well—civilized about things. And now—"
"I don't feel civilized about my wife," I said, pouring her a stiff one.
Her eyes glittered and her cheek was tinged with color. In spite of her anger, she responded to the idea of male brutes contesting for her favor.
"I didn't think you cared a damn," she said at last, "and it's pretty late in the day to make a change now. After all, there is Virginia."
That was the cue to clinch the situation. "To hell with Virginia!" I announced. "I'd rather live with you as your friend than sleep with la Rutherford in ten thousand beds. I can't help it," I added boyishly.
She leaned forward and sniffed. "You have been drinking, haven't you?" she remarked.