“De suite monsieur.”
The sky beyond roofs and chimneys was the blue of a sapphire. The Colonel took three or four deep sniffs of the dawnsmelling air and threw his cigar into the gutter. “Suppose we have a bit of breakfast at Cleremont. I haven’t had anything fit to eat all night. That beastly sweet champagne, ugh!”
Fifi giggled. After the Colonel had examined the horse’s fetlocks and patted his head, they climbed into the cab. The Colonel fitted in Fifi carefully under his arm and they drove off. Emile stood a second in the door of the restaurant uncrumpling a five dollar bill. He was tired and his insteps ached.
When Emile came out of the back door of the restaurant he found Congo waiting for him sitting on the doorstep.
Congo’s skin had a green chilly look under the frayed turned up coatcollar.
“This is my friend,” Emile said to Marco. “Came over on the same boat.”
“You havent a bottle of fine under your coat have you? Sapristi I’ve seen some chickens not half bad come out of this place.”
“But what’s the matter?”
“Lost my job that’s all.... I wont have to take any more off that guy. Come over and drink a coffee.”
They ordered coffee and doughnuts in a lunchwagon on a vacant lot.