David said he had not been able to keep track of it because he had been travelling but there was no doubt that the weather was strange. Not only the weather, said Monsieur Aurol, every thing was changed and what was not changed was changing fast. It might very well all be for the best and he, for one, did not oppose it. Monsieur, as a man of the world, probably saw it in the same way.
Undoubtedly, said David, seeking for a decisive and terminal idiocy, it was necessary to review the cadres.
Precisely, said Monsieur Aurol.
They left it at that and David finished his caf6 creme and read the Miroir des Sports and began to miss Catherine. He went into the room and found Far Away and Long Ago and came out onto the terrace and settled himself in the sun by the table out of the wind to read the lovely book. Catherine had sent to Galignani’s in Paris for the Dent edition for a present for him and when the books had come they had made him feel truly rich. The figures in his bank balances, the franc and dollar accounts, had, ever since
Grau du Roi, seemed completely unreal and he had never con sidered them as actual money. But the books of W. H. Hudson had made him feel rich and when he told Catherine this she was very pleased.
After he had read an hour he started to miss Catherine very badly and he found the boy who served at table and asked him to bring a whiskey and Perrier. Later he had another. It was well past lunch when he heard the car come up the hill.
They came along the walk and he heard their voices. They were excited and happy, then the girl was suddenly silent, and Catherine said, “Look who I brought to see you.
“Please, I know I should not have come,” the girl said. It was the dark handsome one of the two they had met at the cafe yesterday; the one who blushed.
“How are you?” David said. She had evidently been to the coiffeur’s and her hair had been cropped short the way Catherine’s had been at Biarritz. “I see you found the place.”
The girl blushed and looked at Catherine for courage. “Look at her,” Catherine said. “Go muss her head up.” “Oh Catherine,” the girl said. Then she said to David, “You can if you want.”
“Don’t be frightened,” he said. “What do you think you’ve got into?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just so happy to be here.”
‘Where have you two been?” David asked Catherine. “Jean’s of course. Then we just stopped and had a drink and I asked Marita if she’d come to lunch. Aren’t you glad to see us?”‘
“I’m delighted. Will you have another drink?”
“Would you make martinis?” Catherine asked. “One won’t hurt you,” she said to the girl.
“No please. I have to drive.”
“Do you want a sherry?”
“No please.”
David went behind the bar and found glasses and some ice and made two martinis.
“I’ll taste yours if I may,” the girl said to him.
“You’re not afraid of him now are you?” Catherine asked her. “Not at all,” the girl said. She blushed again. “It tastes very good but terribly strong.
“They are strong,” David said. “But there’s a strong wind today and we drink according to the wind.”
“Oh,” said the girl. “Do all Americans do that?”
“Only the oldest families,” Catherine said. “Us, the Morgans, the Woolworths, the Jelkses, the Jukeses. You know.”
“It’s rugged in the blizzards and in hurricane months,” David said. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll get through the autumnal equinox.”
“I’d like to have one sometime when I didn’t have to drive,” the girl said.
“You don’t have to drink because we do,” Catherine said. “And don’t mind that we make jokes all the time. Look at her David. Aren’t you glad I brought her?”
“I love it that you make jokes,” the girl said. “You must forgive me that I’m so happy to be here.”
“You were nice to come,” David said.
When they were at lunch in the dining room out of the wind, David asked, “What about your friend Nina?”