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The
sandwiches
came
and
I
ate
three
and
drank
a
couple
more
martinis
.
I
had
never
tasted
anything
so
cool
and
clean
.
They
made
me
feel
civilized
.
I
had
had
too
much
red
wine
,
bread
,
cheese
,
bad
coffee
and
grappa
.
I
sat
on
the
high
stool
before
the
pleasant
mahogany
,
the
brass
and
the
mirrors
and
did
not
think
at
all
.
The
barman
asked
me
some
question
.
"
Don
’
t
talk
about
the
war
,
"
I
said
.
The
war
was
a
long
way
away
.
Maybe
there
wasn
’
t
any
war
.
There
was
no
war
here
.
Then
I
realized
it
was
over
for
me
.
But
I
did
not
have
the
feeling
that
it
was
really
over
.
I
had
the
feeling
of
a
boy
who
thinks
of
what
is
happening
at
a
certain
hour
at
the
schoolhouse
from
which
he
has
played
truant
.
Catherine
and
Helen
Ferguson
were
at
supper
when
I
came
to
their
hotel
.
Standing
in
the
hallway
I
saw
them
at
table
.
Catherine
’
s
face
was
away
from
me
and
I
saw
the
line
of
her
hair
and
her
cheek
and
her
lovely
neck
and
shoulders
.
Ferguson
was
talking
.
She
stopped
when
I
came
in
.
"
My
God
,
"
she
said
.
"
Hello
,
"
I
said
.
"
Why
it
’
s
you
!
"
Catherine
said
.
Her
face
lighted
up
.
She
looked
too
happy
to
believe
it
.
I
kissed
her
.
Catherine
blushed
and
I
sat
down
at
the
table
.
"
You
’
re
a
fine
mess
,
"
Ferguson
said
.
"
What
are
you
doing
here
?
Have
you
eaten
?
"
"
No
.
"
The
girl
who
was
serving
the
meal
came
in
and
I
told
her
to
bring
a
plate
for
me
.
Catherine
looked
at
me
all
the
time
,
her
eyes
happy
.
"
What
are
you
doing
in
mufti
?
"
Ferguson
asked
.
