“You must come, Jake. We’re all going,” Frances said from the end of the table. She was tall and had a smile.
“Of course, he’s coming,” Braddocks said. “Come in and have coffee with us, Barnes.”
“Right.”
“And bring your friend,” said Mrs. Braddocks laughing. She was a Canadian and had all their easy social graces.
“Thanks, we’ll be in,” I said. I went back to the small room.
“Who are your friends?” Georgette asked.
“Writers and artists.”
“There are lots of those on this side of the river.”
“Too many.”
“I think so. Still, some of them make money.”
“Oh, yes.”
We finished the meal and the wine. “Come on,” I said. “We’re going to have coffee with the others.”
Georgette opened her bag, made a few passes at her face as she looked in the little mirror, redefined her lips with the lipstick, and straightened her hat.
“Good,” she said.
We went into the room full of people and Braddocks and the men at his table stood up.