Free Brass Bed by Fletcher Flora Page B

I’ll try to see that it doesn’t happen.”
    “Is your mind definitely made up on that point? Personally, I think it would be rather pleasant if it did.”
    “The pleasantness of it is beside the point, and my mind is definitely made up. Shall we go have a beer?”
    “Perhaps you’d better wipe off the lipstick first.”
    I wiped it off on my handkerchief, and she went up the path ahead of me to the top of the bank and across to the cabin. Fran was wearing bright red shorts that showed off practically all of her good legs, and Kirby and Sid were wearing slacks and T-shirts and canvas shoes. Kirby looked disgustingly virile, and when he lifted his can of beer to take a swallow, the muscle made a hard knot in his arm. He was a great one for active stuff, as I said, playing a lot of handball and things like that, and he was a guy who could wear a T-shirt and get away with it.
    “Hello, Felix,” he said.
    “How are you?” I said.
    “I’m fine. Feeling great. This is a mighty nice spot for fishing you fellows have here.”
    “Well, it’s pretty good. About all we catch is bullheads, though.”
    “No channel cats?”
    “Once in a while you can get one down by the gravel bar, but not very often. I was just down trying, but I didn’t have any luck.”
    “I’d like to try myself. Would you consider letting me use your rod a little later?”
    “Sure. Any time.”
    He was being very friendly as a part of his new policy, and I didn’t like it. It is no pleasure at any time to hate a man who has done you no harm deliberately, but it is especially no pleasure to hate a man like that when he is practicing a policy of being friendly. I went over and got a beer and sat down on the ground beside Fran. She was sitting Indian fashion, with her feet crossed at the ankles in front of her and her good legs displayed effectively. After being in the ice chest all night, the beer was extremely cold and made my teeth ache with the first swallow.
    Kirby got a beer from Harvey for Jolly and carried it to her and remained beside her with his left arm around her waist. She looked up at him and smiled, and I was exorbitantly pleased to notice that her lipstick was a little smeared from the kissing on the gravel bar. Fran was looking up sidewise at Sid.
    “Sid,” she said, “why don’t you get yourself a sociable beer?”
    “No, thanks,” Sid said. “I don’t care for beer.”
    “What do you mean, you don’t care for it? Are you too good to drink plain beer like the rest of us? Maybe you think Harvey and Felix ought to shake you up a martini or something.”
    “Oh, cut it out, Fran. I just don’t like beer, that’s all. Is there any law against not liking beer?”
    “That’s not the point, Sid. You are absolutely incapable of seeing anything clearly. The point is, here are Felix and Harvey sharing their beer with us, which is the very most they have to offer, a kind of widow’s mite or something like that, and there you are adopting the perfectly disgusting and snobbish attitude that beer is something you just don’t happen to like.”
    “God-damn it,” Sid said, “it’s not an attitude at all. It’s my taste, that’s all. Taste is not an attitude.”
    “It’s all right,” I said. “Harvey and I are sorry that Sid doesn’t like beer, but it’s quite all right if he doesn’t.”
    “No, it isn’t all right.” Fran shook her head. “You are only being courteous, Felix. I don’t know why you should bother being courteous with someone who only bothers to be rude and snobbish about your beer. As for me, I like your beer very much, and I intend to drink several cans of it at least.”
    “You are more than welcome to all you want.”
    “Thank you. I knew I could expect you to be courteous and generous. There are some people you can always count on for courtesy and generosity, and there are other people you can only count on for rudeness and snobbishness.” She had switched her eyes from Sid to me, and now