The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway Read Free Book Online Page A

not believe he thought about his clothes much. Externally he had been formed at Princeton. Internally he had been moulded by the two women who had trained him. He had a nice, boyish sort of cheerfulness that had never been trained out of him, and I probably have not brought it out. He loved to win at tennis. He probably loved to win as much as Lenglen, for instance. On the other hand, he was not angry at being beaten. When he fell in love with Brett his tennis game went all to pieces. People beat him who had never had a chance with him. He was very nice about it.

    Anyhow, we were sitting on the terrace of the café Select, and Harvey Stone had just crossed the street.

    â€œCome on up to the Lilas,” I said.

    â€œI have a date.”

    â€œWhat time?”

    â€œFrances is coming here at seven-fifteen.”

    â€œThere she is.”

    Frances Clyne was coming toward us from across the street. She was a very tall girl who walked with a great deal of movement. She waved and smiled. We watched her cross the street.

    â€œHello,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re here, Jake. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

    â€œHello, Frances,” said Cohn. He smiled.

    â€œWhy, hello, Robert. Are you here?” She went on, talking rapidly. “I’ve had the damdest time. This one”—shaking her head at Cohn—“didn’t come home for lunch.”

    â€œI wasn’t supposed to.”

    â€œOh, I know. But you didn’t say anything about it to the cook. Then I had a date myself, and Paula wasn’t at her office. I went to the Ritz and waited for her, and she never came, and of course I didn’t have enough money to lunch at the Ritz—”

    â€œWhat did you do?”

    â€œOh, went out, of course.” She spoke in a sort of imitation joyful manner. “I always keep my appointments. No one keeps theirs, nowadays. I ought to know better. How are you, Jake, anyway?”

    â€œFine.”

    â€œThat was a fine girl you had at the dance, and then went off with that Brett one.”

    â€œDon’t you like her?” Cohn asked.

    â€œI think she’s perfectly charming. Don’t you?”

    Cohn said nothing.

    â€œLook, Jake. I want to talk with you. Would you come over with me to the Dome? You’ll stay here, won’t you, Robert? Come on, Jake.”

    We crossed the Boulevard Montpamasse and sat down at a table. A boy came up with the
Paris Times,
and I bought one and opened it.

    â€œWhat’s the matter, Frances?”

    â€œOh, nothing,” she said, “except that he wants to leave me.”

    â€œHow do you mean?”

    â€œOh, he told everyone that we were going to be married, and I told my mother and everyone, and now he doesn’t want to do it.”

    â€œWhat’s the matter?”

    â€œHe’s decided he hasn’t lived enough. I knew it would happen when he went to New York.”

    She looked up, very bright-eyed and trying to talk inconsequentially.

    â€œI wouldn’t marry him if he doesn’t want to. Of course I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t marry him now for anything. But it does seem to me to be a little late now, after we’ve waited three years, and I’ve just gotten my divorce.”

    I said nothing.

    â€œWe were going to celebrate so, and instead we’ve just had scenes. It’s so childish. We have dreadful scenes, and he cries and begs me to be reasonable, but he says he just can’t do it.”

    â€œIt’s rotten luck.”

    â€œI should say it is rotten luck. I’ve wasted two years and a half on him now. And I don’t know now if any man will ever want to marry me. Two years ago I could have married anybody I wanted, down at Cannes. All the old ones that wanted to marry somebody chic and settle down were crazy about me. Now I don’t think I could get anybody.”

    â€œSure, you could marry