She kissed me coolly on the forehead.
“Oh, Brett, I love you so much.”
“Darling,” she said. Then: “Do you want me to send him away?”
“No. He’s nice.”
“I’ll send him away.”
“No, don’t.”
“Yes, I’ll send him away.”
“You can’t just like that.”
“Can’t I, though? You stay here. He’s mad about me, I tell you.”
She was gone out of the room. I lay face down on the bed. I was having a bad time. I heard them talking but I did not listen. Brett came in and sat on the bed.
“Poor old darling.” She stroked my head.
“What did you say to him?” I was lying with my face away from her. I did not want to see her.
“Sent him for champagne. He loves to go for champagne.”
Then later: “Do you feel better, darling? Is the head any better?”
“It’s better.”
“Lie quiet. He’s gone to the other side of town.”
“Couldn’t we live together, Brett? Couldn’t we just live together?”