““Oh, go to hell." He stood up from the table his face white, and stood there white and angry behind the little plates of hors d' œuvres. "Sit down," I said. "Don't be a fool." "You've got to take that back." "Oh, cut out the prep-school stuff." "Take it back." "Sure. Anything. I never heard of Brett Ashley. How's that?" "No. Not that. About me going to hell." "Oh, don't go to hell," I said. "Stick around. We're just starting lunch.””
