“You’re damn right they will. But I would much rather not have any hydramatic drive.”
“I can do without it,” the girl said. Then she held her self straight and hard not to cry. “As I can do without everything else.”
“What are you drinking?” the Colonel said. “We haven’t even ordered yet.”
“I don’t think I will drink anything.”
“Two very dry Martinis,” the Colonel said to the bartender, “and a glass of cold water.”
He reached into his pocket and unscrewed the top of the medicine bottle, and shook two of the big tablets into his left hand. With them in his hand, he screwed the top back on the bottle. It was no feat for a man with a bad right hand.
“I said I didn’t want to drink anything.”
“I know daughter. But I thought you might need one. We can leave it on the bar. Or I can drink it myself. Please,” he said. “I did not mean to be brusque.”
“We haven’t asked for the little negro that will look after me.”
“No. Because I did not want to ask for him until Cipriani came in and I could pay for him.”
“Is everything that rigid?”
“With me, I guess,” the Colonel said. “I’m sorry daughter.”
“Say daughter three times straight.”
“Hija, figlia, Daughter.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think we should just leave
