"That's all right, Davis," he said in a paternal tone, "but you want to get rid of that instrument as soon as you can."
"What for?" demanded Davis, deftly swinging himself into a chair.
"We're waiting for you to get well," explained Teddy, with a smile at Evelyn. "It isn't considered good form to have a groomsman who's a cripple."
"Groomsman? Who? What? You two?" Davis stared from one to the other.
Teddy nodded, and Evelyn turned slightly pink. Davis turned to Teddy.
"They tell me you and I are to be impressively decorated for smashing Varrhus," he complained, "and there'll be moving pictures taken of it and shown everywhere. I want to be a touching picture, all wounded up, you know, when that happens. A girl threw me over about six months ago and she likes the movies. When she sees me beautifully mangled and being kissed by bearded people who pin medals on me she'll be sorry. Mayn't I wear a crutch until then?"
Teddy laughed, and Evelyn smiled affectionately at Davis.
"If it's like that, of course," said Evelyn, "we'll wait. But Teddy's in an awful hurry."
"I would be, too, in his place," said Davis promptly. He assumed an expression of extreme reluctance. "Well, I suppose I'll have to get well."
Teddy shamelessly squeezed Evelyn's hand, and she as shamelessly squeezed back.