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"
I
’
ll
be
in
my
room
,
"
she
said
.
"
Good
-
by
,
Dick
.
"
"
Good
-
by
.
"
"
Oh
,
such
a
shame
,
such
a
shame
.
Oh
,
such
a
shame
What
’
s
it
all
about
anyhow
?
"
"
I
’
ve
wondered
for
a
long
time
.
"
"
But
why
bring
it
to
me
?
"
"
I
guess
I
’
m
the
Black
Death
,
"
he
said
slowly
.
"
I
don
’
t
seem
to
bring
people
happiness
any
more
.
"
There
were
five
people
in
the
Quirinal
bar
after
dinner
,
a
high
-
class
Italian
frail
who
sat
on
a
stool
making
persistent
conversation
against
the
bartender
’
s
bored
:
"
Si
.
.
.
Si
.
.
.
Si
,
"
a
light
,
snobbish
Egyptian
who
was
lonely
but
chary
of
the
woman
,
and
the
two
Americans
.
Dick
was
always
vividly
conscious
of
his
surroundings
,
while
Collis
Clay
lived
vaguely
,
the
sharpest
impressions
dissolving
upon
a
recording
apparatus
that
had
early
atrophied
,
so
the
former
talked
and
the
latter
listened
,
like
a
man
sitting
in
a
breeze
.
Dick
,
worn
away
by
the
events
of
the
afternoon
,
was
taking
it
out
on
the
inhabitants
of
Italy
.
He
looked
around
the
bar
as
if
he
hoped
an
Italian
had
heard
him
and
would
resent
his
words
.
