“Yes,” she said. “I have to and you know it.”
He did not say anything and she looked at him and put her hand out again. The barman was at the far end of the bar. His face was white and so was his jacket. He knew these two and thought them a handsome young couple. He had seen many handsome young couples break up and new couples form that were never so handsome long. He was not thinking about this, but about a horse. In half an hour he could send across the street to find if the horse had won.
“Couldn’t you just be good to me and let me go?” the girl asked.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” Two people came in the door and went up to the bar.
“Yes, sir,” the barman took the orders.
“You can’t forgive me? When you know about it?” the girl asked.
“No.”
“You don’t think things we’ve had and done should make any difference in understanding?”
“‘Vice is a monster of such fearful mien,’” the young man said bitterly, “that to be something or other needs but to be seen. Then we something, something, then embrace.” He could not remember the words. “I can’t quote,” he said.
“Let’s not say vice,” she said. “That’s not very polite.”
“Perversion,” he said.
“James,” one of the clients addressed the barman, “you’re looking very well.”
“You’re looking very well yourself,” the barman said.
“Old James,” the other client said. “You’re fatter, James.”
“It’s terrible,” the barman said, “the way I put it on.”
“Don’t neglect to insert the brandy, James,” the first client said.
“No, sir,” said the barman. “Trust me.” The two at the bar looked over at the two at the table, then looked back at the barman again. Towards the barman was the comfortable direction.
