"It's the humidity," Bill said. "They ought to take this damn humidity away."
"Have another shot."
"Is this all we've got?"
"Only the two bottles."
"Do you know what you are?" Bill looked at the bottle affectionately.
"No," I said.
"You're in the pay of the Anti-Saloon League."
"I went to Notre Dame with Wayne B. Wheeler."
"It's a lie," said Bill. "I went to Austin Business College with Wayne B. Wheeler. He was class president."
"Well," I said, "the saloon must go."
"You're right there, old classmate," Bill said. "The saloon must go, and I will take it with me."
"You're cock-eyed."
"On wine?"
"On wine."
"Well, maybe I am."
"Want to take a nap?"
"All right."
We lay with our heads in the shade and looked up into the trees.
"You asleep?"
"No," Bill said. "I was thinking."
I shut my eyes. It felt good lying on the ground.
"Say," Bill said, "what about this Brett business?"
"What about it?"
"Were you ever in love with her?"
"Sure."
"For how long?"
"Off and on for a hell of a long time."
