“are you going to say bitchy things all the evening?”
Her eyes opened a trifle. “Am I?”
“It's no use going on like this. Tell me. Get it off your mind, then perhaps we can forget about it.”
“Forget about what? Mrs. Harry Garner and Miss Garner? They'd be very difficult to forget.”
“Four months ago you said they didn't matter,” Harry said, determined to keep his temper. “You said you understood my position and you didn't mind. You didn't mind; I know you didn't. Why this sudden change?”
She didn't like this direct approach. “Harry, do you think if I fell in love with a woman I should be any happier?”
“No, you can't side-track like that. You don't mean anything by that. You're just gaining time.”
“No, honestly. I've wondered. Women can be so much more understanding.”
Three people came up to the bar and ordered drinks. They stood close to Harry and the girl. One of them was a tall, flat-chested girl with a serious expression on her face. She wore heavy, horn-rim glasses. The other two were middle-aged men.
One of the men said, “Manuel, you're looking pretty good tonight.”
Manuel pushed a bottle of Canadian Rye across the polished wood. He said: “Yes, sir, I'm feeling pretty good. You don't look so bad yourself.”
The man turned to the serious-looking girl. “I like this place. They give you the bottle and let you get tight, fast or slow, just as you feel. There's no waiting to be served.”
The serious-looking girl said: “That's fine, because I want to get tight very fast tonight.”
Harry said: “Let's go. I can't talk to you here. Let's go back to the apartment.”
She shook her head. “No, not tonight. I'm feeling nervy. We should only quarrel. Not tonight.”
He hid his disappointment. “Well, let's go, anyway. I'll see you home.”
He gave Manuel some money and she smiled at him. “Your drink's been a big success. Mr. Garner says you're a genius.”
Manuel showed his surprise. He said good night rather stiffly. He felt somehow that she had insulted him.
The two of them walked out into the bustle of the street. He noticed that she was just a little drunk; it gave him hope.
“Let me come back with you,” he said, “I have a lot to say to you.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight.” She sounded very final.
He raised his hand to signal a cab.
“No,” she said, “I'm much too tired. We'll walk.”
THE GENERAL DIES IN BED
It all happened so quickly he hadn't any chance of making plans. They had come to him and offered him three hundred dollars to give Pedro de Babar the heat. Three hundred dollars! They were crazy! Well, he'd got them up to five hundred and there they stuck. When he found they wouldn't give any more, he agreed. He knew once he had given it to de Babar he'd have to get out of Cuba. That didn't worry him. He was sick of Cuba, anyway.
In the afternoon he went up to de Babar's bungalow with the intention of having a look round. It was a nice place, fitting for a General of the Cuban War Department to live in.
The big garden that surrounded the one-storied building flamed with colours. Palm trees bent graceful heads against the blue of the sky. The place was so nice that the boy was violently envious. He would have liked to have been a devastating god with powers to destroy by a wave of his hand.
The heat of the afternoon sun had driven the guards to shelter. The boy could see no one as he made his way cautiously towards the bungalow. So he went on, until he came to a little path leading to the back of the building.
He moved soundlessly, beads of sweat running down his yellow-white skin. He was not frightened for himself, only that he might make some mistake that would prevent him
Her eyes opened a trifle. “Am I?”
“It's no use going on like this. Tell me. Get it off your mind, then perhaps we can forget about it.”
“Forget about what? Mrs. Harry Garner and Miss Garner? They'd be very difficult to forget.”
“Four months ago you said they didn't matter,” Harry said, determined to keep his temper. “You said you understood my position and you didn't mind. You didn't mind; I know you didn't. Why this sudden change?”
She didn't like this direct approach. “Harry, do you think if I fell in love with a woman I should be any happier?”
“No, you can't side-track like that. You don't mean anything by that. You're just gaining time.”
“No, honestly. I've wondered. Women can be so much more understanding.”
Three people came up to the bar and ordered drinks. They stood close to Harry and the girl. One of them was a tall, flat-chested girl with a serious expression on her face. She wore heavy, horn-rim glasses. The other two were middle-aged men.
One of the men said, “Manuel, you're looking pretty good tonight.”
Manuel pushed a bottle of Canadian Rye across the polished wood. He said: “Yes, sir, I'm feeling pretty good. You don't look so bad yourself.”
The man turned to the serious-looking girl. “I like this place. They give you the bottle and let you get tight, fast or slow, just as you feel. There's no waiting to be served.”
The serious-looking girl said: “That's fine, because I want to get tight very fast tonight.”
Harry said: “Let's go. I can't talk to you here. Let's go back to the apartment.”
She shook her head. “No, not tonight. I'm feeling nervy. We should only quarrel. Not tonight.”
He hid his disappointment. “Well, let's go, anyway. I'll see you home.”
He gave Manuel some money and she smiled at him. “Your drink's been a big success. Mr. Garner says you're a genius.”
Manuel showed his surprise. He said good night rather stiffly. He felt somehow that she had insulted him.
The two of them walked out into the bustle of the street. He noticed that she was just a little drunk; it gave him hope.
“Let me come back with you,” he said, “I have a lot to say to you.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight.” She sounded very final.
He raised his hand to signal a cab.
“No,” she said, “I'm much too tired. We'll walk.”
THE GENERAL DIES IN BED
It all happened so quickly he hadn't any chance of making plans. They had come to him and offered him three hundred dollars to give Pedro de Babar the heat. Three hundred dollars! They were crazy! Well, he'd got them up to five hundred and there they stuck. When he found they wouldn't give any more, he agreed. He knew once he had given it to de Babar he'd have to get out of Cuba. That didn't worry him. He was sick of Cuba, anyway.
In the afternoon he went up to de Babar's bungalow with the intention of having a look round. It was a nice place, fitting for a General of the Cuban War Department to live in.
The big garden that surrounded the one-storied building flamed with colours. Palm trees bent graceful heads against the blue of the sky. The place was so nice that the boy was violently envious. He would have liked to have been a devastating god with powers to destroy by a wave of his hand.
The heat of the afternoon sun had driven the guards to shelter. The boy could see no one as he made his way cautiously towards the bungalow. So he went on, until he came to a little path leading to the back of the building.
He moved soundlessly, beads of sweat running down his yellow-white skin. He was not frightened for himself, only that he might make some mistake that would prevent him
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