The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway [12]
"The Englishmen all have Saturday off," Woolsey said.
"Lucky beggars," said Krum. "Well, I'll tell you. Some day I'm not going to be working for an agency. Then I'll have plenty of time to get out in the country."
"That's the thing to do. Live out in the country and have a little car."
"I've been thinking some about getting a car next year."
I banged on the glass. The chauffeur stopped. "Here's my street," I said. "Come in and have a drink."
"Thanks, old man," Krum said. Woolsey shook his head. "I've got to file that line he got off this morning."
I put a two-franc piece in Krum's hand.
"You're crazy, Jake," he said. "This is on me."
"It's all on the office, anyway."
"Nope. I want to get it."
I waved good-by. Krum put his head out. "See you at the lunch on Wednesday."
"You bet."
I went to the office in the elevator. Robert Cohn was waiting for me. "Hello, Jake," he said. "Going out to lunch?"
"Yes. Let me see if there is anything new."
"Where will we eat?"
"Anywhere."
I was looking over my desk. "Where do you want to eat?"
"How about Wetzel's? They've got good hors d'oeuvres."
In the restaurant we ordered hors d'oeuvres and beer. The sommelier brought the beer, tall, beaded on the outside of the stems, and cold. There were a dozen different dishes of hors d'oeuvres.
"Have any fun last night?" I asked.
"No. I don't think so."
"How's the writing going?"
"Rotten. I can't get this second book going."
"That happens to everybody."
"Oh, I'm sure of that. It gets me worried, though."
"Thought any more about going to South America?"
"I mean that."
"Well, why don't you start off?"
"Frances."
"Well," I said, "take her with you."
"She wouldn't like it. That isn't the sort of thing she likes. She likes a lot of people around."
"Tell her to go to hell."
"I can't. I've got certain obligations to her."
He shoved the sliced cucumbers away and took a pickled herring.
"What do you know about Lady Brett Ashley, Jake?"
"Her name's Lady Ashley. Brett's her own name. She's a nice girl," I said. "She's getting a divorce and she's going to marry Mike Campbell. He's over in Scotland now. Why?"
"She's a remarkably attractive woman."
"Isn't she?"
"There's a certain quality about her, a certain fineness. She seems to be absolutely fine and straight."
"She's very nice."
"I don't know how to describe the quality," Cohn said. "I suppose it's breeding."
"You sound as though you liked her pretty well."
"I do. I shouldn't wonder if I were in love with her."
"She's a drunk," I said. "She's in love with Mike Campbell, and she's going to marry him. He's going to be rich as hell some day."
"I don't believe she'll ever marry him."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I just don't believe it. Have you known her a long time?"
"Yes," I said. "She was a V. A. D. in a hospital I was in during the war."
"She must have been just a kid then."
"She's thirty-four now."
"When did she marry Ashley?"
"During the war. Her own true love had just kicked off with the dysentery."
"You talk sort of bitter."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just trying to give you the facts."
"I don't believe she would marry anybody she didn't love."
"Well," I said. "She's done it twice."
"I don't believe it."
"Well," I said, "don't ask me a lot of fool questions if you don't like the answers."
"I didn't ask you that."
"You asked me what I knew about Brett Ashley."
"I didn't ask you to insult her."
"Oh, go to hell."
He stood up from the table his face white, and stood there white and angry behind the little plates of hors d'ceuvres.
"Sit down," I said. "Don't be a fool."
"You've got to take that back."
"Oh, cut out the prep-school stuff."
"Take it back."
"Sure. Anything. I never heard of Brett Ashley. How's that?"
"No. Not that. About me going to hell."
"Oh, don't go to hell," I said. "Stick around. We're just starting lunch."
Cohn smiled again and sat down. He seemed glad to sit down. What the hell