Ernest Hemingway

THE GARDEN OF EDEN
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Chapter Twenty-three

THE TWO GIRLS were both sitting at the bar with a bottle of Perrier-Jouet in a bucket with ice and they both looked fresh and lovely. "It's just like meeting an ex-husband," Catherine said. "It makes me feel very sophisticated." She had never looked gayer or more lovely. "I must say it agrees with you." She looked at David in mock appraisal. "Do you think he's all right?" Marita said. She looked at David and blushed. "And well you might blush," Catherine said. "Look at her, David." "She looks very well," David said. "So do you." "She looks about sixteen," Catherine said. "She said she told you about reading the narrative. "I think you should have asked me," David said. "I know I should," Catherine said.

"But I started to read it for myself and then it was so interesting I thought Heiress ought to read it too.

"I'd have said no."

"But the point is," Catherine said, "if he ever says no about anything, Marita, just keep right on. It doesn't mean a thing."

"I don't believe it," Marita said. She smiled at David.

"That's because he hasn't written the narrative up to date. When he does you'll find out."

"I'm through with the narrative," David said.

"That's dirty," Catherine said. "That was my present and our project."

"You must write it, David," the girl said. "You will won't you?"

"She wants to be in it, David," Catherine said. "And it will be so much better when you have a dark girl too."

David poured himself a glass of the champagne. He saw Marita look at him, a warning, and he said to Catherine, "I'll go on with it when I finish the stories. What did you do with your day?"

"I had a fine day. I made decisions and planned things."

"Oh God," David said.

"They're all straightforward plans," Catherine said. "You don't have to groan about them. You've been doing just whatever you wanted to do all day and I was pleased. But I have a right to make a few plans."

"What sort of plans?" David asked. His voice sounded very flat.

"First we have to start seeing about getting the book out. I'm going to have to have the manuscript typed up to where it is now and see about getting illustrations. I have to see the artists and make the arrangements."

"You've had a very busy day," David said. "You know, don't you, that you don't get manuscripts typed until whoever writes them has gone over them and has them ready for typing?"

"That isn't necessary because I only need a rough draft to show the artists."

"I see. And if I don't want it copied yet?"

"Don't you want it brought out? I do. And someone has to get started on something practical."

"Who are the artists you thought up today?"

"Different ones for different parts. Marie Laurencin, Pascen, Derain, Dufy and Picasso."

"For Christ sake, Derain."

"Can't you see a nice Laurencin of Marita and me in the car when we stopped the first time by the Loup on the way to Nice?"

"Nobody's written that."

"Well write it then. It's certainly much more interesting and (...)

(......)