“Mais, oui, et du bon vin.”
Alan’s voice was of a gentleness we had never heard. We offered to run out to a charcutier, but he would not hear of it and realizing that it might be a question of pride, we did not insist. There was no reason for our anxiety, for the lunch was delicious and under the mellowing influence of the extra bottle of wine the stiffness wore away. Yet the conversation was not exactly expansive.
“What made you get into it, Skipper?”
“More amusing than staying out. How about you?”
“Same with me.”
“Davy said you were going in the ambulance.”
“Just for a couple of months. I’ve been at Plattsburg. I’ll strike for a commission as soon as we get in it.”
Ben glanced at his watch and jumped up.
“Hello! Must be off.” He shook hands punctiliously with Toinon. “Déjeuner tres bon. Good-by, Skipper. Any time I get a chance at Paris I’ll look you up. Are you fixed all right for money?”