Page 63 - tender-is-the-night

‘I don’t know what began it. First she began to talk—‘
‘Who?’
‘Violet McKisco.’ He lowered his voice as if there were
people under the bench. ‘But don’t mention the Divers be-
cause he made threats against anybody who mentioned it.’
‘Who did?’
‘Tommy Barban, so don’t you say I so much as mentioned
them. None of us ever found out anyhow what it was Violet
had to say because he kept interrupting her, and then her
husband got into it and now, my dear, we have the duel. This
morning—at five o’clock—in an hour.’ He sighed suddenly
thinking of his own griefs. ‘I almost wish it were I. I might
as well be killed now I have nothing to live for.’ He broke off
and rocked to and fro with sorrow.
Again the iron shutter parted above and the same Brit-
ish voice said:
‘Rilly, this must stup immejetely.’
Simultaneously Abe North, looking somewhat distract-
ed, came out of the hotel, perceived them against the sky,
white over the sea. Rosemary shook her head warningly be-
fore he could speak and they moved another bench further
down the road. Rosemary saw that Abe was a little tight.
‘What are YOU doing up?’ he demanded.
‘I just got up.’ She started to laugh, but remembering the
voice above, she restrained herself.
‘Plagued by the nightingale,’ Abe suggested, and re-
peated, ‘probably plagued by the nightingale. Has this
sewing-circle member told you what happened?’
Campion said with dignity:

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