“Thanks,” said Ted suddenly and fervently and did not seem to be able to say anything more.
The events of the evening had come too close, at moments, to grotesque tragedy for Oliver to pretend to misunderstand him.
“Oh, that's all right. And anyhow I owed you one for that time with the gendarmes in Brest.”
“Maybe,” but Ted didn't seem to be convinced. “That was jocose though. Even at the worst.” The words came with effort. “This was—serious. I owe you about everything, I guess.”
“Oh, go take a flying leap at a galloping goose!”
“Go do it yourself. Oh, Oliver, you ass, I will be pretty and polite about your saving my life.” And both laughed and felt easier. “Saved a good deal more than that as a matter of fact—or what counts for more with me,” Ted added soberly. “Then the letter I brought was satisfactory?”
“Satisfactory? Gee!” said Ted intensely, and again they fell silent.
Some miles later Oliver added casually
“You won't have any trouble with our late hostess, by the way. Though she knows all about it.”
“She knows?”