I'll get some.
Don't you trouble about that.
In eight days you'll have it here."
"Got a legacy?" I asked with dismal cheerfulness. "Something of the sort.
Leave it to me.
You can't just go away again now."
Koster spread the rug again over Karl's radiator. He passed his hand lightly over the bonnet.
Then we went into the hall and sat by the fire.
"How late is it actually?" I asked.
Koster looked at his watch.
"Half-past six."
"Extraordinary," said I. "I thought it was much later."
Pat came down the stairs.
She was wearing her fur jacket and walked swiftly across the hall to greet Koster.
I saw now for the first time how brown she was.
Her skin was the colour of reddish bronze, and she looked almost like a young, very fair Red Indian, But her face had become thinner and her eyes shone too brightly.
"Are you feverish?" I asked.
"A bit," she replied quickly and evasively. "Everybody here is feverish at night.
It's only because you have come.
Aren't you tired?"
"What from?"
"Then should we go into the bar?
You know, this is the first time up here I've had visitors."
"Is there a bar here?"
"Yes, a small one.
Or at least a corner that looks like one.
That's part of the treatment.
Avoid everything that looks like a hospital.
You don't get anything if it's not allowed."
The bar was full.
Pat greeted several people.
One Italian I liked.
We sat at a table which had just been vacated.
"What will you have, then?" I asked.
"A cocktail with rum.
The sort we always used to drink at 'The Bar.'
Do you know the recipe?"
"That's simple," said I to the girl who was serving. "Half port, half Jamaica rum."
"Two," called Pat. "And one Special."
The girl brought us two Porto-Roncos and a bright red drink. "That's for me," said Pat. She pushed the rum toward us. "Salut!"
She put down her glass without having drunk, looked around, then swiftly reached for my glass and emptied it.
"Ach," said she, "how good that is."
"What's this you ordered?" I asked trying the suspiciously bright red affair.
It tasted of raspberry and lemon. There was not a drop of alcohol in it. , "Very good," said I.
Pat looked at me.
"For the thirst," I added.
She laughed.
"Order one more Porto-Ronco.
But for yourself.
I don't get any."