“Could I help you?”
“Don’t be an ass. Michael’s people have loads of money.”
The music stopped. We walked over to the table. The count stood up.
“Very nice,” he said. “You looked very, very nice.”
“Don’t you dance, count?” I asked.
“No. I’m too old.”
“Oh, come off it,” Brett said.
“My dear, I would do it if I would enjoy it. I enjoy to watch you dance.”
“Splendid,” Brett said. “I’ll dance again for you some time. I say. What about your little friend, Zizi?”
“Let me tell you. I support that boy, but I don’t want to have him around.”