"I say," said Mike, "I'm going to the barber's."
"I must bathe," said Brett. "Walk up to the hotel with me, Jake. Be a good chap."
"We have got the loveliest hotel," Mike said. "I think it's a brothel!"
"We left our bags here at the Dingo when we got in, and they asked us at this hotel if we wanted a room for the afternoon only. Seemed frightfully pleased we were going to stay all night."
"I believe it's a brothel," Mike said. "And I should know."
"Oh, shut it and go and get your hair cut."
Mike went out. Brett and I sat on at the bar.
"Have another?"
"Might."
"I needed that," Brett said.
We walked up the Rue Delambre.
"I haven't seen you since I've been back," Brett said.
"No."
"How are you, Jake?"
"Fine."
Brett looked at me. "I say," she said, "is Robert Cohn going on this trip?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Don't you think it will be a bit rough on him?"
"Why should it?"
"Who did you think I went down to San Sebastian with?"
"Congratulations," I said.
We walked along.
"What did you say that for?"
"I don't know. What would you like me to say?"
We walked along and turned a corner.
"He behaved rather well, too. He gets a little dull."
"Does he?"
"I rather thought it would be good for him."
