Beside me sat the shade of Frau Zalewski.
Breuer brought some people with him to the table. Two good-looking women and a younger fellow with a completely bald head.
Afterward a fourth joined us.
All of them light as cork, glib and sure.
Pat knew them all four.
I felt as heavy as a clod.
Until now I had always been alone with Pat.
Now I was seeing for the first time people she had known before.
I could not start anything with them.
They moved easily and freely, they came from a life where everything went smoothly, where one saw nothing one did not want to see; they came from another world.
Had I been alone there, with t,enz or Koster, I should not have troubled about it.
But Pat was there, Pat knew them, and that made everything seem wrong, it crippled me and forced me to make comparisons.
Breuer suggested going to another place.
"Robby," said Pat as we went out, "wouldn't you rather go home?"
"No," said I. "Why?"
"It's so boring for you."
"Not in the least.
Why should it be boring?
On the contrary.
And you are enjoying it."
She looked at me but said nothing.
I started to drink.
Not as before, but really.
The chap with the bald head began to take notice.
He asked what it was I was drinking.
"Rum," said I.
"Grog?" he asked.
"No, rum," said I.
He sampled it and choked.
"Good heavens," said he respectfully, "one needs to be used to that."
Now the two women also took notice.
Pat and Breuer were dancing.
Pat looked across often.
I did not look any more.
I knew it was unfair, but it came over me suddenly.
And I was annoyed too that the others should remark my drinking.
I had no wish to impress them like an undergraduate.
I got up and went to the bar.
Pat seemed quite strange to me.
She could go to the devil with her people.
She belonged to them.
No, she didn't belong to them.
Yes she did.
The bald head followed me.
We had a vodka with the mixer.
Mixers are always a comfort.
You can get on with them anywhere, and without having to talk.
This one was good too.
Only the bald head was feeble.
He wanted to unburden himself.