"Is Zizi really a duke, too?"
"I shouldn't wonder. Greek, you know. Rotten painter. I rather liked the count."
"Where did you go with him?"
"Oh, everywhere. He just brought me here now. Offered me ten thousand dollars to go to Biarritz with him. How much is that in pounds?"
"Around two thousand."
"Lot of money. I told him I couldn't do it. He was awfully nice about it. Told him I knew too many people in Biarritz."
Brett laughed.
"I say, you are slow on the up-take," she said. I had only sipped my brandy and soda. I took a long drink.
"That's better. Very funny," Brett said. "Then he wanted me to go to Cannes with him. Told him I knew too many people in Cannes. Monte Carlo. Told him I knew too many people in Monte Carlo. Told him I knew too many people everywhere. Quite true, too. So I asked him to bring me here."
She looked at me, her hand on the table, her glass raised. "Don't look like that," she said. "Told him I was in love with you. True, too. Don't look like that. He was damn nice about it. Wants to drive us out to dinner to-morrow night. Like to go?"
"Why not?"
"I'd better go now."
"Why?"
"Just wanted to see you. Damned silly idea. Want to get dressed and come down? He's got the car just up the street."
"The count?"
"Himself. And a chauffeur in livery. Going to drive me around and have breakfast in the Bois. Hampers. Got it all at Zelli's. Dozen bottles of Mumms. Tempt you?"
"I have to work in the morning," I said. "I'm too far behind you now to catch up and be any fun."
