Page 240 - tender-is-the-night

XI

Doctor Richard Diver and Mrs. Elsie Speers sat in the
Café des Alliées in August, under cool and dusty trees. The
sparkle of the mica was dulled by the baked ground, and a
few gusts of mistral from down the coast seeped through the
Esterel and rocked the fishing boats in the harbor, pointing
the masts here and there at a featureless sky.
‘I had a letter this morning,’ said Mrs. Speers. ‘What a
terrible time you all must have had with those Negroes! But
Rosemary said you were perfectly wonderful to her.’
‘Rosemary ought to have a service stripe. It was pret-
ty harrowing— the only person it didn’t disturb was Abe
North—he flew off to Havre—he probably doesn’t know
about it yet.’
‘I’m sorry Mrs. Diver was upset,’ she said carefully.
Rosemary had written:
Nicole seemed Out of her Mind. I didn’t want to come
South with them because I felt Dick had enough on his
hands.
‘She’s all right now.’ He spoke almost impatiently. ‘So
you’re leaving to-morrow. When will you sail?’
‘Right away.’
‘My God, it’s awful to have you go.’
‘We’re glad we came here. We’ve had a good time, thanks
to you. You’re the first man Rosemary ever cared for.’

240 Tender is the Night