him as Robert Prentiss. He was from New York by way of Chicago, and was a rising new novelist. He had some sort of an English accent. I asked him to have a drink.
"Thanks so much," he said, "I've just had one."
"Have another."
"Thanks, I will then."
We got the daughter of the house over and each had a fine à l'eau.
"You're from Kansas City, they tell me," he said.
"Yes."
"Do you find Paris amusing?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
I was a little drunk. Not drunk in any positive sense but just enough to be careless.
"For God's sake," I said, "yes. Don't you?"
"Oh, how charmingly you get angry," he said. "I wish I had that faculty."
I got up and walked over toward the dancing-floor. Mrs. Braddocks followed me. "Don't be cross with Robert," she said. "He's still only a child, you know."
"I wasn't cross," I said. "I just thought perhaps I was going to throw up."
"Your fiancée is having a great success," Mrs. Braddocks looked out on the floor where Georgette was dancing in the arms of the tall, dark one, called Lett.
"Isn't she?" I said.
"Rather," said Mrs. Braddocks.
Cohn came up. "Come on, Jake," he said, "have a drink." We walked over to the bar. "What's the matter with you? You seem all worked up over something?"
"Nothing. This whole show makes me sick is all."
Brett came up to the bar.
