“Yes—yes. That is, I mean no.... Pardon me, Cousin Gussie, I fear I was not paying attention.... I shall ask her. Yes, if—if you are QUITE sure she has forgiven me, I shall ask her.”
He started toward the cemetery gate as if he intended asking her at the first possible moment. His cousin followed him, his expression indicating a mixture of misgiving and amusement. Suddenly he laughed aloud. Galusha heard him and turned. His slight figure stiffened perceptibly.
“I beg pardon,” he said, after a moment. “Doubtless it is—ah—very amusing, but I confess I do not quite see the joke.”
Cabot laughed again.
“Is it—ah—so funny?” inquired Galusha. “It does not seem so to me.”
The banker took him by the arm. “No offense, old chap,” he said. “Funny? Of course it's funny. It's wildly funny. Do you know what I was just thinking? I was thinking of Aunt Clarissa. What do you suppose she would have said to this?”
He shouted at the thought. Galusha joined him to the extent of a smile. “She would have said it was just what she expected of me,” he observed. “Quite so—yes.”
They walked on in silence for some time. Then Galusha stopped short.
“I have just thought of something,” he said. “It—it MAY have some influence. She has often said she wished she might see Egypt. We could go together, couldn't we?”
Cousin Gussie roared again. “Of course you could,” he declared. “And I only wish I could go along. Loosh, you are more than superb. You are magnificent.”