He took a long drink of the beer.
“He is an ass.”
“What happened?”
“Brett gave him what for. She told him off. I think she was rather good.”
“I’ll bet she was,” Bill said.
“Then Cohn broke down and cried, and wanted to shake hands with the bullfighter fellow. He wanted to shake hands with Brett, too.”
“I know. He shook hands with me.”
“Did he? Well, they weren’t having any of it. The bullfighter fellow was rather good. He didn’t say much, but he kept getting up and getting knocked down again. Cohn couldn’t knock him out. It must have been damned funny.”
“Where did you hear all this?”
“Brett. I saw her this morning.”
“What happened finally?”
“It seems the bullfighter fellow was sitting on the bed. He’d been knocked down about fifteen times, and he wanted to fight some more. Brett held him and wouldn’t let him get up. He was weak, but Brett couldn’t hold him, and he got up. Then Cohn said he wouldn’t hit him again. Said he couldn’t do it. Said it would be wicked. So the bullfighter chap sort of rather staggered over to him. Cohn went back against the wall.
“ ‘So you won’t hit me?’