Page 430 - tender-is-the-night

‘With white eyes.’
‘I’ll take care of that.’
‘It’s very hard taking care of white eyes—especially the
ones made in Chicago.’
‘I know all the old Languedoc peasant remedies.’
‘Kiss me, on the lips, Tommy.’
‘That’s so American,’ he said, kissing her nevertheless.
‘When I was in America last there were girls who would tear
you apart with their lips, tear themselves too, until their fac-
es were scarlet with the blood around the lips all brought
out in a patch—but nothing further.’
Nicole leaned up on one elbow.
‘I like this room,’ she said.
‘I find it somewhat meagre. Darling, I’m glad you
wouldn’t wait until we got to Monte Carlo.’
‘Why only meagre? Why, this is a wonderful room,
Tommy—like the bare tables in so many Cézannes and Pi-
cassos.’
‘I don’t know.’ He did not try to understand her. ‘There’s
that noise again. My God, has there been a murder?’
He went to the window and reported once more:
‘It seems to be two American sailors fighting and a lot
more cheering them on. They are from your battleship off
shore.’ He wrapped a towel around himself and went far-
ther out on the balcony. ‘They have poules with them. I
have heard about this now—the women follow them from
place to place wherever the ship goes. But what women! One
would think with their pay they could find better women!
Why the women who followed Korniloff! Why we never

430 Tender is the Night