It was a masterly summation.
"Right," Forrester said. "I'm going to give Mr. Bottle a spin. This one counts. We'll have the second spin, and the rest of them, later."
"Gee!" Millicent whispered. "Isn't this exciting?"
Forrester ignored the comment. "And remember, I give you my word as a God that I will not interfere in any way with the workings of chance. Is that clearly understood?"
The girls murmured agreement.
"Now," Forrester said, "all you girls get into a nice circle. I'll stand outside."
The girls took a minute or two arranging themselves in a circle, arguing about who was going to sit next to whom, and whose very proximity was bound to bring bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to check on Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but they weren't touching each other. Forrester turned up his hearing to get a better idea of what was going on.
They had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument to life-history. Gerda was telling Alvin all about her past.
"... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that I was in love with a very fine young man. An Athenan, he was. A wonderful man, really wonderful. But he—he was killed in a subway accident some months ago."
"Gosh," Alvin said. "I'm sorry."