However, if things
"broke even," he might well congratulate himself. Certainly they
were having a glorious time, there was no denying that.
"Do you recognize us, Bert?" Nancy sometimes asked him exultingly,
as she tucked herself joyously into somebody's big tonneau, or
snatched open a bureau drawer to find fresh prettiness for some
unexpected outing. "Do you remember our wanting to join the Silver
River Country Club! That little club!"
"Gosh, it's queer!" Bert would agree, grinning. And late in the
second summer he said, "If I put the Buller deal over, I think
I'll get a car!"
"Well, honestly, I think we ought to have a car," Nancy said
seriously, after a flashing look of delight, "It isn't an
extravagance at all, Bert, if you really figure it out. The man
does errands for you, saves you I don't know how much cab fare,
takes care of the place, and Mary Ingram's man has a garbage
incinerator--and saves that expense! Then, it's one of the things
you truly ought to have, down here. You have friends down
Saturday, you play golf, you play bridge after dinner--well and
good. Sunday morning we swim, and come home to lunch, and then
what? You can't ask other friends in to lunch and then propose
that they take us in their cars down the island somewhere? And yet
that's what they do; and I assure you it embarrasses me, over and
over again.
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