Page 68 - tender-is-the-night

don’t want to get too sober.’
‘Well, you look terrible now.’
Obediently McKisco went into the bathroom.
‘I’m leaving everything in an awful mess,’ he called. ‘I
don’t know how Violet will get back to America. I don’t car-
ry any insurance. I never got around to it.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, you’ll be right here eating breakfast
in an hour.’
‘Sure, I know.’ He came back with his hair wet and
looked at Rosemary as if he saw her for the first time. Sud-
denly tears stood in his eyes. ‘I never have finished my novel.
That’s what makes me so sore. You don’t like me,’ he said to
Rosemary, ‘but that can’t be helped. I’m primarily a liter-
ary man.’ He made a vague discouraged sound and shook
his head helplessly. ‘I’ve made lots of mistakes in my life—
many of them. But I’ve been one of the most prominent—in
some ways—‘
He gave this up and puffed at a dead cigarette.
‘I do like you,’ said Rosemary, ‘but I don’t think you
ought to fight a duel.’
‘Yeah, I should have tried to beat him up, but it’s done
now. I’ve let myself be drawn into something that I had no
right to be. I have a very violent temper—‘ He looked close-
ly at Abe as if he expected the statement to be challenged.
Then with an aghast laugh he raised the cold cigarette butt
toward his mouth. His breathing quickened.
‘The trouble was I suggested the duel—if Violet had only
kept her mouth shut I could have fixed it. Of course even now
I can just leave, or sit back and laugh at the whole thing—

68 Tender is the Night