“Everything. Please say you forgive me, Jake.”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s all right.”
“I felt so terribly. I’ve been through such hell, Jake. Now everything’s gone. Everything.”
“Well,” I said, “so long. I’ve got to go.”
He rolled over, sat on the edge of the bed, and then stood up.
“So long, Jake,” he said. “You’ll shake hands, won’t you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
We shook hands. In the dark I could not see his face very well.
“Well,” I said, “see you in the morning.”
“I’m going away in the morning.”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
I went out. Cohn was standing in the door of the room.
“Are you all right, Jake?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “I’m all right.”
I could not find the bathroom. After a while I found it. There was a deep stone tub. I turned on the taps and the water would not run. I sat down on the edge of the bathtub. When I got up to go I found I had taken off my shoes. I hunted for them and found them and carried them downstairs. I found my room and went inside and undressed and got into bed.
I woke with a headache and the noise of the bands going by in the street. I remembered I had promised to take Bill’s friend Edna to see the