Page 74 - tender-is-the-night

the seam of his trousers. McKisco, reckless with brandy,
pursed his lips in a whistle and pointed his long nose about
nonchalantly, until Abe stepped forward with a handker-
chief in his hand. The French second stood with his face
turned away. Rosemary caught her breath in terrible pity
and gritted her teeth with hatred for Barban; then:
‘One—two—three!’ Abe counted in a strained voice.
They fired at the same moment. McKisco swayed but re-
covered himself. Both shots had missed.
‘Now, that’s enough!’ cried Abe.
The duellists walked in, and everyone looked at Barban
inquiringly.
‘I declare myself unsatisfied.’
‘What? Sure you’re satisfied,’ said Abe impatiently. ‘You
just don’t know it.’
‘Your man refuses another shot?’
‘You’re damn right, Tommy. You insisted on this and my
client went through with it.’
Tommy laughed scornfully.
‘The distance was ridiculous,’ he said. ‘I’m not accus-
tomed to such farces—your man must remember he’s not
now in America.’
‘No use cracking at America,’ said Abe rather sharply.
And then, in a more conciliatory tone, ‘This has gone far
enough, Tommy.’ They parleyed briskly for a moment—then
Barban nodded and bowed coldly to his late antagonist.
‘No shake hand?’ suggested the French doctor.
‘They already know each other,’ said Abe.
He turned to McKisco.

74 Tender is the Night