We had just started a round of Bloody Marys. My girl friend took a sip, looked idly ar

ound the room and suddenly, with more vivacity (轻松活泼) than I had seen in weeks, exclaimed, “Isn’t that Ernest Hemingway？”

At the end of the bar, talking on the telephone, was a tall man with a white beard,handsome and imposing.

“It’s Hemingway all right,” I said.

“Why don’t you ask him to have a drink with us？” she said, knowing I wouldn’t dare. What matter if the barman at the Ritz threw me out？ My life was over anyway. “I’ll ask him,” I said.

“No, no, don’t ,” she said. “I was just kidding.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, squaring my shoulders and striding to the bar. Hemingway had just ended his phone call.

“Mr. Hemingway,” I said, “the young lady at the far table and I would like you to join us for a drink, if you have time.”

He looked at me, then across the room at her. Whether it was because I was so obviously on the spot or because she was so pretty-she really did look like a cross between Gene Tierney and Audrey Hepburn, as people often remarked-he said, “I’ve got another phone call to make, and then I’ll join you.”

When I returned to the table, my girl friend asked: “What’d he say？ What’d he say？”

“He said he’d join us for a drink. Maybe he was just kidding.”

A few minutes later, with both of us studiously not looking toward the end of the bar,a shadow loomed over the table and Hemingway sat down. We ordered another round of Bloody Marys.

Hemingway told us he was going down to Spain for the bullfights. He said he had fully recovered from injuries suffered when his small plane had crashed in the African jungle a few months before. He asked me what kind of car I drove, and when I told him I had a Triumph TR-2-a big engine for a small chassis (汽车底盘) -he remarked, “Get us the manifold pressure in one of those and you can really roll.”

We chatted for a few moments. Then he looked at his watch and said: “I’d like to stay longer, but I’ve got a dinner date. Nice talking to you.”

My girl friend took my hand and smiled warmly at me for the first time in weeks.“You’ve got nerve,” she said. I signaled for the check. “Monsieur Hemingway a paye,” the waiter said. Mr. Hemingway had paid for the drinks.

1. When they first saw Hemingway, the latter ().

A. was drinking Bloody Marys

B. was talking to the barman

C. was talking on the phone

D. was walking idly around the room

2. The girl suggested that the author go and ask Hemingway to have a drink with them because ().

A. she was not speaking seriously

B. she was sure Hemingway would come

C. she wanted to talk to Hemingway very much

D. she was sure the author would do as she suggested

3. After the author went to invite Hemingway, the latter ().

A. said he didn’t have time