to be able to talk with the understanding that I knew there was something between him and Brett.
"Well, Bill and I will go up right after lunch," I said.
"I wish I could go. We've been looking forward to this fishing all winter." He was being sentimental about it. "But I ought to stay. I really ought. As soon as they come I'll bring them right up."
"Let's find Bill."
"I want to go over to the barber-shop."
"See you at lunch."
I found Bill up in his room. He was shaving.
"Oh, yes, he told me all about it last night," Bill said. "He's a great little confider. He said he had a date with Brett at San Sebastian."
"The lying bastard!"
"Oh, no," said Bill. "Don't get sore. Don't get sore at this stage of the trip. How did you ever happen to know this fellow, anyway?"
"Don't rub it in."
Bill looked around, half-shaved, and then went on talking into the mirror while he lathered his face.
"Didn't you send him with a letter to me in New York last winter? Thank God, I'm a travelling man. Haven't you got some more Jewish friends you could bring along?" He rubbed his chin with his thumb, looked at it, and then started scraping again.
"You've got some fine ones yourself."
"Oh, yes. I've got some darbs. But not alongside of this Robert Cohn. The funny thing is he's nice, too. I like him. But he's just so awful."
"He can be damn nice."
"I know it. That's the terrible part."
I laughed.
"Yes. Go on and laugh," said Bill. "You weren't out with him last night until two o'clock."
