“Look out,” I said, “I can do it. Yes, it’s about stopped now.” I dipped the rag again, breaking the balloon. The rag stained the water. “I wish I had a clean one.”
“You need a piece of beefsteak for that eye,” Shreve said. “Damn if you wont have a shiner tomorrow. The son of a bitch,” he said.
“Did I hurt him any?” I wrung out the handkerchief and tried to clean the blood off of my vest.
“You cant get that off,” Shreve said. “You’ll have to send it to the cleaner’s. Come on, hold it on your eye, why dont you.”
“I can get some of it off,” I said. But I wasn’t doing much good. “What sort of shape is my collar in?”
“I dont know,” Shreve said. “Hold it against your eye. Here.”
“Look out,” I said. “I can do it. Did I hurt him any?”
“You may have hit him. I may have looked away just then or blinked or something. He boxed the hell out of you. He boxed you all over the place. What did you want to fight him with your fists for? You goddamn fool. How do you feel?”
“I feel fine,” I said. “I wonder if I can get something to clean my vest.”
“Oh, forget your damn clothes. Does your eye hurt?”