“The heck with that. I’m invited and I can bring anybody I want. The Coast Guard’s even going to send a car out for me. Driver and everything.” He grinned. “That’s because I’m a captain.”

“What kind of party?”

“Big dance. Do you like to dance, Johnnie?”

“Please say you’ll come, Mrs. Grandin,” Billie pleaded. “We’ll have a lovely time. Tomorrow night’s the full moon, too. Oh, and Toni Lansing is going to be there, they say, giving out autographs to the boys. Free. Goodness, maybe I’ll even get one!”

“Say, we might ask the Howards too, Billie honey. What do you think?”

“Well, aren’t they maybe a little too old?”

“Indeed? The Howards,” Grandin said, “happen to be at least four years younger than I am.”

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean—I mean if you think I thought—”

“I didn’t think you thought at all.” He turned to her husband. “I don’t see how five civilians can get in on one uniform, Cliff. We haven’t the right: it isn’t fair.”

“That’s my lookout, Johnnie, not yours. Don’t you worry, they’ll take it okay. If they invite me, they’ve got to take who I bring along.”

Though his wife was unspeakably angry with him (she seemed to have registered his rebuke to Billie more deeply than anyone), Grandin could see that Ethel wanted him to say yes. She would have a wonderful time at a party of young people; heaven knew their holiday had been dull enough till now. It was an opportunity not to be missed—their one chance, possibly, of being able to get together again during their stay on the island; but the thought of attending a party for servicemen depressed him intolerably. It was just about the last thing he wanted to do in this world.

The Howards, called to the table as they passed through the dining room, accepted with pleasure. “Will we not!” Sarah Howard said. “At last I’ll have a chance to wear a long skirt.”

“Goodness,” Billie said when the Howards had gone on, “I hope nobody’s going to go formal. All I’ve got is an old blue thing about a thousand years old. Well, you can make it up for me, Cliff, by wearing your full-­dress uniform.”

“Fat chance. Don’t forget I’m on a vacation.”

“You’re also on your honeymoon, if you’d only realize it, and I think you’re being just as mean as you can be. I know you, Clifford Hauman. You’ll wear those cheap old khakis that look worse than fatigue clothes even. To a party, too!”