“It's a little money, anyhow. And then—remember Dick Lamoureux?”
“Yes.”
“Got a letter from him right after—I came back from St. Louis. Well, he's got a big job with the American Express in Paris—European Advertising Manager or something like that—he's been crazy to have either of us come over ever since that idea of the three of us getting an apartment on the Rive Gauche fell through. Well, he says, if I can come over, he'll get me some sort of a job—not much to go on at first but they want people who are willing to stay—enough to live on anyway—I want to get out of the country, Ted.”
“Should think you would. Good Lord—Paris! Why you lucky, lucky Indian!” says Ted affectionately. “When'll you leave?” “Don't know. He said cable him if I really decided—think I will. They need men and I can get a fair enough letter from Vanamee. I've been thinking it over ever since the letter came—wondering if I'd take it. Think I will now. Well.”
“Well, I wish I was going along, Crowe.”
And this time Oliver is really able to smile.
“No, you don't.”
“Oh well—but, honestly—well, no, I suppose I don't. And I suppose that's something you know all about, too, you—private detective!”
“Private detective! Why, you poor ass, if you haven't noticed how I've been playing godmother to you all the way through this house-party—”
“I have. I suppose I'd thank anybody else. Coming from you, though, I can only say that such was both my hope and my expectation.”