Benji forced a hollow laugh. Vera smiled a positive agreement.
Then Benji sort of coughed out a faint note of hope and pleaded, "Vera, sweet, this is a—uh—an occasion, don't you agree, dear? Don't you—ah—do you think maybe I ought to—fix us all a drink?"
"Thurlow! You drink far too much! You had a highball before dinner at Professor Dorman's only night before last."
Almost—but not quite—I felt sorry for him.
"Ah, well, Vera doll," I said, "this is an occasion, after all. And I do want to drink a toast to you and Benji."
"Hmph."
"Especially you, the love of my life, lost now, but lovelier than ever."
"Boulard!... Well, Thurlow, don't stand there like an idiot. Go mix us some drinks. And mind the line on the bottle."
And then she turned back with some more gush for me. I enjoyed it, knowing now what I had been saved from. In fact, as I said, I enjoyed the whole evening; my playing up to Vera made her just that much rougher on Benji. Revenge on Benji plus relief at what I had escaped made life seem pleasant, and right there and then I changed my mind about leaving town. I decided to stay and settled down.