Directions: Remembering that The Sun Also Rises is written from Jake’s perspective AND that there is an elephant in the room when Jake and Brett are together… In your twosome, FIRST read the lines to yourself and look for the DOUBLE ENTENDRES. THEN, label the lines (Brett’s line, Jake’s line) and read the passage aloud with your partner, hearing the double entendre and capturing the TONE of each character.
PASSAGE 1: p. 29-30 
“She stood holding the glass and I saw Robert Cohn looking at her. He looked a great deal as his compatriot must have looked when he saw the promised land. Cohn, of course, was much younger. But he had that look of eager, deserving expectation.
Brett was damned good-looking. She wore a slipover jersey sweater and a tweed skirt, and her hair was brushed back like a boy’s. She started all that. She was built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht, and you missed none of it with that wool jersey.”
“It’s a fine crowd you’re with, Brett,” I said
“Aren’t they lovely? And you, my dear. Where did you get it?”
“At the Napolitain.”
“And have you had a lovely evening?”
“Oh, priceless,” I said.
Brett laughed. “It’s wrong of you, Jake. It’s an insult to all of us. Look at Frances there, and Jo.”
This for Cohn’s benefit.
“It’s in restraint of trade,” Brett said. She laughed again.
“You’re wonderfully sober,” I said.
“Yes. Aren’t I? And when one’s with the crowd I’m with, one can drink in such safety, too.”
PASSAGE 2: p. 33 
“…Brett’s face was white and the long line of her neck showed in the bright light of the flares. The street was dark again and I kissed her. Our lips were tight together and then she turned away and pressed against the corner of the seat, as far away as she could get. Her head was down.”
“Don’t touch me,” she said. “Please don’t touch me.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I can’t stand it.”
“You mustn’t. You must know. I can’t stand it, that’s all. Oh, darling, please understand!”
“Don’t you love me?”
“Love you? I simply turn all to jelly when you touch me.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do about it?”
“And there’s not a damn thing we could do,” I said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to go through that hell again.”
“We’d better keep away from each other.”
“But, darling, I have to see you. It isn’t all that you know.”
“No, but it always gets to be.”
“That’s my fault. Don’t we pay for all the things we do, though?”
She had been looking into my eyes all the time. Her eyes had different depths, sometimes they seemed perfectly flat. Now you could see all the way into them.
“When I think of the hell I’ve put chaps through. I’m paying for it all now.”
“Don’t talk like a fool,” I said. “Besides, what happened to me is supposed to be funny. I never think about it.”
“On, no. I’ll lay you don’t.”
“Well, let’s shut up about it.”
“I laughed about it too, myself, once.” She wasn’t looking at me. “A friend of my brother’s came home that way from
Mons. It seemed like a hell of a joke. Chaps never know anything, do they?
“No,” I said. “Nobody ever knows anything.”
PASSAGE 3: p. 36-37 
I said good night to Brett at the bar. The count was buying champagne. “Will you take a glass of wine with us, sir?” he asked.
“No. Thanks awfully. I have to go.”
“Really going?” Brett asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve got a rotten headache.”
“I’ll see you to-morrow?”
“Come in at the office.”
“Well, where will I see you?”
“Anywhere around five o’clock.”
“Make it the other side of town then.”
“Good. I’ll be at the Crillon at five.”
“Try and be there,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Brett said. “I’ve never let you down, have I?”
“Heard from Mike?”
“Good night, sir,” said the count.