“Don’t be indecent, Michael. Remember there are ladies at this bar.”
“Isn’t she a lovely piece? Don’t you think so, Jake?”
“There’s a fight tonight,” Bill said. “Like to go?”
“Fight,” said Mike. “Who’s fighting?”
“Ledoux and somebody.”
“He’s very good, Ledoux,” Mike said. “I’d like to see it, rather”—he was making an effort to pull himself together—“but I can’t go. I had a date with this thing here. I say, Brett, do get a new hat.”
Brett pulled the felt hat down far over one eye and smiled out from under it. “You two run along to the fight. I’ll have to be taking Mr. Campbell home directly.”
“I’m not tight,” Mike said. “Perhaps just a little. I say, Brett, you are a lovely piece.”
“Go on to the fight,” Brett said. “ Mr. Campbell’s getting difficult. What are these outbursts of affection, Michael?”
“I say, you are a lovely piece.”
We said good night. “I’m sorry I can’t go,” Mike said. Brett laughed. I looked back from the door. Mike had one hand on the bar and was leaning toward Brett, talking. Brett was looking at him quite coolly, but the corners of her eyes were smiling.
Outside on the pavement I said: “Do you want to go to the fight?”
“Sure,” said Bill. “If we don’t have to walk.”
“Mike was pretty excited about his girl friend,” I said in the taxi.