“I say. We have had a day.”
“You don’t remember anything about a date with me at the Crillon?”
“No. Did we have one? I must have been blind.”
“You were quite drunk, my dear,” said the count.
“Wasn’t I, though? And the count’s been a brick, absolutely.”
“You’ve got hell’s own drag with the concierge now.”
“I ought to have. Gave her two hundred francs.”
“Don’t be a damned fool.”
“His,” she said, and nodded at the count.
“I thought we ought to give her a little something for last night. It was very late.”
“He’s wonderful,” Brett said. “He remembers everything that’s happened.”
“So do you, my dear.”
“Fancy,” said Brett. “Who’d want to? I say, Jake, do we get a drink?”
“You get it while I go in and dress. You know where it is.”
“Rather.”
While I dressed I heard Brett put down glasses and then a siphon, and then heard them talking. I dressed slowly, sitting on the bed. I felt tired and pretty rotten. Brett came in the room, a glass in her hand, and sat on the bed.
“What’s the matter, darling? Do you feel rocky?”