“We’re going,” Brett said. “We’ve a date up at Montmartre.” Dancing, I looked over Brett’s shoulder and saw Cohn, standing at the bar, still watching her.
“You’ve made a new one there,” I said to her.
“Don’t talk about it. Poor chap. I never knew it till just now.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “I suppose you like to add them up.”
“Don’t talk like a fool.”
“You do.”
“Oh, well. What if I do?”
“Nothing,” I said. We were dancing to the accordion and someone was playing the banjo. It was hot and I felt happy. We passed close to Georgette dancing with another one of them.
“What possessed you to bring her?”
“I don’t know, I just brought her.”
“You’re getting damned romantic.”
“No, bored.”
“Now?”
“No, not now.”
“Let’s get out of here. She’s well taken care of.”
“Do you want to?”
“Would I ask you if I didn’t want to?”