Page 448 - tender-is-the-night

‘... serious.’
‘... serious.’
‘... perfectly agreeable.’
In a minute Dick came into Nicole’s booth, his expres-
sion emerging annoyed from behind the towel of his hastily
rinsed face.
‘Your friend has worked himself up into a state. He wants
to see us together, so I agreed to have it over with. Come
along!’
‘But my hair—it’s half cut.’
‘Nevermind—come along!’
Resentfully she had the staring coiffeuse remove the tow-
els.
Feeling messy and unadorned she followed Dick from
the hotel. Outside Tommy bent over her hand.
‘We’ll go to the Café des Alliées,’ said Dick.
‘Wherever we can be alone,’ Tommy agreed.
Under the arching trees, central in summer, Dick asked:
‘Will you take anything, Nicole?’
‘A citron pressé.’
‘For me a demi,’ said Tommy.
‘The Blackenwite with siphon,’ said Dick.
‘Il n’y a plus de Blackenwite. Nous n’avons que le Johnny
Walkair.’
‘Ca va.’

“She’s—not—wired for sound
but on the quiet
you ought to try it—‘

448 Tender is the Night