Page 153 - tender-is-the-night

time to time his mind reverted to the fact that he ought to
go over and get Freeman out of jail, but he shook off all facts
as parts of the nightmare.
By one o’clock the bar was jammed; amidst the con-
sequent mixture of voices the staff of waiters functioned,
pinning down their clients to the facts of drink and money.
‘That makes two stingers ... and one more ... two marti-
nis and one ... nothing for you, Mr. Quarterly ... that makes
three rounds. That makes seventy-five francs, Mr. Quarter-
ly. Mr. Schaeffer said he had this—you had the last ... I can
only do what you say ... thanks vera-much.’
In the confusion Abe had lost his seat; now he stood gen-
tly swaying and talking to some of the people with whom he
had involved himself. A terrier ran a leash around his legs
but Abe managed to extricate himself without upsetting
and became the recipient of profuse apologies. Presently he
was invited to lunch, but declined. It was almost Briglith, he
explained, and there was something he had to do at Briglith.
A little later, with the exquisite manners of the alcoholic
that are like the manners of a prisoner or a family servant,
he said good-by to an acquaintance, and turning around
discovered that the bar’s great moment was over as precipi-
tately as it had begun.
Across from him the Dane and his companions had or-
dered luncheon. Abe did likewise but scarcely touched it.
Afterwards, he just sat, happy to live in the past. The drink
made past happy things contemporary with the present, as
if they were still going on, contemporary even with the fu-
ture as if they were about to happen again.

153