the best time to speak truly of them. I have never said anything of a dead that I would not say to his face,” and he added, “in spades.”
“Let’s not talk about him. I have reclassified him in my mind.”
“What do you want then; picturesque?”
“Yes please. I have bad taste from reading the illustrated papers. But I will read Dante all week while you are gone. I’ll go to mass each morning. That should be enough.”
“Go to Harry’s before lunch too.”
“I will,” she said. “Please tell me some picturesque.”
“Don’t you think we might better just go to sleep?”
“How can we go to sleep now when we have so little time? Feel this,” she said and pushed her whole head up under his chin until she forced his head back.
“All right, I’ll talk.”
“Give me your hand first to hold. I’ll have it in my hand when I read the Dante and do the other things.”
“Dante was an execrable character. More conceited than Leclerc.”
“I know. But he did not write execrably.”
“No. Leclerc could fight too. Excellently.”
“Now tell me.”
Her head was on his chest now, and the Colonel said, “Why did you not want me to take off the tunic?”
“I like to feel the buttons. Is it wrong?”
“I’ll be a sad son of a bitch,” the Colonel said. “How many people fought in your family?”
