The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway Page B

nothing but walk. Walk all day long. One drink a day with my mother at tea.”

    Bill had gone into the bar. He was standing talking with Brett, who was sitting on a high stool, her legs crossed. She had no stockings on.

    â€œIt’s good to see you, Jake,” Michael said. “I’m a little tight you know. Amazing, isn’t it? Did you see my nose?”

    There was a patch of dried blood on the bridge of his nose.

    â€œAn old lady’s bags did that,” Mike said. “I reached up to help her with them and they fell on me.”

    Brett gestured at him from the bar with her cigarette-holder and wrinkled the corners of her eyes.

    â€œAn old lady,” said Mike. “Her bags
fell
on me. Let’s go in and see Brett. I say, she is a piece. You
are
a lovely lady, Brett. Where did you get that hat?”

    â€œChap bought it for me. Don’t you like it?”

    â€œIt’s a dreadful hat. Do get a good hat.”

    â€œOh, we’ve so much money now,” Brett said. “I say, haven’t you met Bill yet? You
are
a lovely host, Jake.”

    She turned to Mike. “This is Bill Gorton. This drunkard is Mike Campbell. Mr. Campbell is an undischarged bankrupt.”

    â€œAren’t I, though? You know I met my ex-partner yesterday in London. Chap who did me in.”

    â€œWhat did he say?”

    â€œBought me a drink. I thought I might as well take it. I say, Brett, you
are
a lovely piece. Don’t you think she’s beautiful?”

    â€œBeautiful. With this nose?”

    â€œIt’s a lovely nose. Go on, point it at me. Isn’t she a lovely piece?”

    â€œCouldn’t we have kept the man in Scotland?”

    â€œI say, Brett, let’s turn in early.”

    â€œDon’t be indecent, Michael. Remember there are ladies at this bar.”

    â€œIsn’t she a lovely piece? Don’t you think so, Jake?”

    â€œThere’s a fight tonight,” Bill said. “Like to go?”

    â€œFight,” said Mike. “Who’s fighting?”

    â€œLedoux and somebody.”

    â€œHe’s very good, Ledoux,” Mike said. “I’d like to see it, rather”—he was making an effort to pull himself together—“but I can’t go. I had a date with this thing here. I say, Brett, do get a new hat.”

    Brett pulled the felt hat down far over one eye and smiled out from under it. “You two run along to the fight. I’ll have to be taking Mr. Campbell home directly.”

    â€œI’m not tight,” Mike said. “Perhaps just a little. I say, Brett, you are a lovely piece.”

    â€œGo on to the fight,” Brett said. “Mr. Campbell’s getting difficult. What are these outbursts of affection, Michael?”

    â€œI say, you are a lovely piece.”

    We said good-night. “I’m sorry I can’t go,” Mike said. Brett laughed. I looked back from the door. Mike had one hand on the bar and was leaning toward Brett, talking. Brett was looking at him quite coolly, but the corners of her eyes were smiling.

    Outside on the pavement I said: “Do you want to go to the fight?”

    â€œSure,” said Bill. “If we don’t have to walk.”

    â€œMike was pretty excited about his girlfriend,” I said in the taxi.

    â€œWell,” said Bill. “You can’t blame him such a hell of a lot.”

Chapter IX

    The Ledoux-Kid Francis fight was the night of the 20th of June. It was a good fight. The morning after the fight I had a letter from Robert Cohn, written from Hendaye. He was having a very quiet time, he said, bathing, playing some golf and much bridge. Hendaye had a splendid beach, but he was anxious to start on the fishing trip. When would I be down? If I would buy him a double-tapered line he would pay me when I came down.

    That same morning I wrote Cohn from the office that Bill and I would leave Paris on the 25th unless I