Page 75 - tender-is-the-night

‘Come on, let’s get out.’
As they strode off, McKisco, in exultation, gripped his
arm.
‘Wait a minute!’ Abe said. ‘Tommy wants his pistol back.
He might need it again.’
McKisco handed it over.
‘To hell with him,’ he said in a tough voice. ‘Tell him he
can—‘
‘Shall I tell him you want another shot?’
‘Well, I did it,’ cried McKisco, as they went along. ‘And I
did it pretty well, didn’t I? I wasn’t yellow.’
‘You were pretty drunk,’ said Abe bluntly.
‘No, I wasn’t.’
‘All right, then, you weren’t.’
‘Why would it make any difference if I had a drink or
so?’
As his confidence mounted he looked resentfully at
Abe.
‘What difference does that make?’ he repeated.
‘If you can’t see it, there’s no use going into it.’
‘Don’t you know everybody was drunk all the time dur-
ing the war?’
‘Well, let’s forget it.’
But the episode was not quite over. There were urgent
footsteps in the heather behind them and the doctor drew
up alongside.
‘Pardon, Messieurs,’ he panted. ‘Voulez-vous regler mes
honorairies? Naturellement c’est pour soins médicaux seule-
ment. M. Barban n’a qu’un billet de mille et ne peut pas les

75