XXXII
Oliver, in the middle of a painfully vivid dream in which he has just received in the lounge of a Yale Club crowded with whispering, pointing spectators the news that Miss Nancy Ellicott of St. Louis has eloped with the Prince of Wales, wakes, to hear someone stumbling around the room in the dark.
“That you, Ted?”
“Yes. Go to bed.”
“Can't—I'm there. What's time?”
“'Bout five, I guess.” Ted doesn't seem to want to be very communicative.
“Um.” A pause while Oliver remembers what it was he wanted to ask Ted about and Ted undresses silently.
“Well—congratulations?”
Ted's voice is very even, very controlled.