“Damned noble of you.”
“No, listen, Jake. Brett’s gone off with men. But they weren’t ever Jews, and they didn’t come and hang about afterward.”
“Damned good chaps,” Brett said. “It’s all rot to talk about it. Michael and I understand each other.”
“She gave me Robert Cohn’s letters. I wouldn’t read them.”
“You wouldn’t read any letters, darling. You wouldn’t read mine.”
“I can’t read letters,” Mike said. “Funny, isn’t it?”
“You can’t read anything.”
“No. You’re wrong there. I read quite a bit. I read when I’m at home.”
“You’ll be writing next,” Brett said. “Come on, Michael. Do buck up. You’ve got to go through with this thing now. He’s here. Don’t spoil the fiesta.”
“Well, let him behave, then.”