"Can't we go together?"
"No. That would be a hell of an idea after we'd just talked it out."
"We never agreed."
"Oh, you know as well as I do. Don't be obstinate, darling."
"Oh, sure," I said. "I know you're right. I'm just low, and when I'm low I talk like a fool."
I sat up, leaned over, found my shoes beside the bed and put them on. I stood up.
"Don't look like that, darling."
"How do you want me to look?"
"Oh, don't be a fool. I'm going away to-morrow."
"To-morrow?"
"Yes. Didn't I say so? I am."
"Let's have a drink, then. The count will be back."
"Yes. He should be back. You know he's extraordinary about buying champagne. It means any amount to him."
We went into the dining-room. I took up the brandy bottle and poured Brett a drink and one for myself. There was a ring at the bell-pull. I went to the door and there was the count. Behind him was the chauffeur carrying a basket of champagne.
"Where should I have him put it, sir?" asked the count.
"In the kitchen," Brett said.
"Put it in there, Henry," the count motioned. "Now go down and get the ice." He stood looking after the basket inside the kitchen door. "I think you'll find that's very good wine," he said. "I know we don't get much of a chance to judge good wine in the States now, but I got this from a friend of mine that's in the business."
"Oh, you always have some one in the trade," Brett said.
"This fellow raises the grapes. He's got thousands of acres of them."
