“What do you mean?”
“Why did we come back to this rotten town anyway?”
“You’ve been burbling about how wonderful it was ever since we came back.”
“I know. I guess it’s sour grapes.... I’m going to have another cocktail.... Ellie for heaven’s sake what’s the matter with us?”
“We’re going to be sick if we keep this up I tell you.”
“Well let’s be sick.... Let’s be good and sick.”
When they sit up in the great bed they can see across the harbor, can see the yards of a windjammer and a white sloop and a red and green toy tug and plainfaced houses opposite beyond a peacock stripe of water; when they lie down they can see gulls in the sky. At dusk dressing rockily, shakily stumbling through the mildewed corridors of the hotel out into streets noisy as a brass band, full of tambourine rattle, brassy shine, crystal glitter, honk and whir of motors.... Alone together in the dusk drinking sherry under a broad-leaved plane, alone together in the juggled particolored crowds like people invisible. And the spring night comes up over the sea terrible out of Africa and settles about them.
They had finished their coffee. Jimmy had drunk his very slowly as if some agony waited for him when he finished it.
“Well I was afraid we’d find the Barneys here,” said Ellen.
“Do they know about this place?”