"Don't mention it!"
"You do understand, don't you?"
"You have made everything perfectly clear."
"I hope—I hope you won't be unhappy."
"Unhappy!" Sam produced a strangled noise from his larynx, like the cry of a shrimp in pain. "Unhappy! I'm not unhappy! Whatever gave you that idea? I'm smiling! I'm laughing! I feel I've had a merciful escape."
"It's very unkind and rude of you to say that."
"It reminds me of a moving picture I saw in New York. It was called
'Saved from the Scaffold.'"
"Oh!"
"I'm not unhappy. What have I got to be unhappy about? What on earth does any man want to get married for? I don't … Give me my gay bachelor life! My uncle Charlie used to say 'It's better luck to get married than it is to be kicked in the head by a mule.' But he was an optimist. Good-night, Miss Bennett. And good-bye—for ever."
He turned on his heel and strode across the deck. From a white heaven the moon still shone benignantly down, mocking him. He had spoken bravely: the most captious critic could not but have admitted that he had made a good exit. But already his heart was aching.