didn’t you? I didn’t ask you to, did I? Do you think I should have any difficulty in getting along by myself? How do you think I’ve managed before? I’m not afraid of work. I’m strong, not like you. You wanted to be with me—how do you think we can live unless you help? Do you think I’d mind what I did to make you happy? If men wanted me and would pay for me, do you think I should care? Can’t you get outside your body and forget that it is you? Use it to get us somewhere, use it as a singer uses his voice.”
Stella climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel round her. She shivered a little. “How long have I got to do this?” she asked. “Don’t you love me any more? Doesn’t it mean anything to you that I’m used like this?”
Gerda went to her, her eyes half closed, knowing that she had got her way, and therefore willing to be kind.
Denny had finished his meal when Stella came out in a light-blue wrap, which suited her. He was mixing some more cocktails, having drunk six in a row, and he felt a lot better tempered. In fact, he greeted Stella with a grin as she came in.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked. “You’re looking grand. Have a gin and du Bonnet. Can you cook yourself a meal? I wish I could, but I’ve never learnt how.”
Stella took a cocktail and began preparing supper. “Don’t you want a bath, Mr. Merlin?” she asked.
Denny shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I guess I’ve been having a few drinks instead.”
She turned on the grill and stood waiting for it to heat up. With her back turned to him, she loosened her wrap, then pulled it closely round her as if to avoid spotting the material from the hissing fat.
Denny could see the slim outline of her figure, the soft curve of her buttocks, and he suddenly wanted her very badly. He turned away and took another drink. “Where’s your unpleasant friend?” he asked abruptly.
Stella stiffened. “Gerda?” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean—unpleasant?”
Denny shrugged. “Forget it,” he said; “I was forgetting she was a friend of yours.”
“Gerda’s in the bath. She won’t be out for ages. She loves to soak. She told me that she’d get her own supper. Odd way we’re eating. We ought to have all sat down together.”
“How old are you?” Denny asked, leaning against the stove, so that he could watch her face. “Right now, you look like a lovely little girl.”
Stella blushed. “Oh, I’m nineteen,” she said. “I’ll be twenty at the end of the month.”
“Isn’t it a pity that you’re living this sort of life? I mean, haven’t you any parents to look after you?”
Stella broke an egg into the pan. “No,” she said, “I guess not. I get along, really, Mr. Merlin, only just now we’re in a jam. We had some bad luck and the landlady took our bags in payment—you know.” She broke off and gave a little sniff.
Denny came a little closer. “This girl, Gerda. I don’t think she’s a suitable companion for you. Tell me, don’t you get into trouble sometimes because of her?”
Stella looked at him, trying hard to force anger out of her eyes. “Gerda has been very wonderful to me,” she said.
Denny shrugged and turned away. He couldn’t make this business out. Stella didn’t look like a tramp, he kept telling himself. She wasn’t that type at all, he could swear to it, yet why did Gerda make that suggestion? Why was she so sure that Stella would agree? Could it be that Stella liked him? By now the cocktails had made him a little drunk and he was very sure of himself. It would be rather a joke if Stella went for him in a big way and Gerda was left holding the can.
He followed Stella into the dining-room and sat opposite her while she ate her supper. Outside, the wind and rain lashed the walls of the house, making it shudder and forcing them to shout a little when they talked. He insisted on taking her plate away when she had finished, and came back with the cocktail-shaker full again. Stella was sitting on a big settee near the fire. Her wrap had fallen open, showing her neat bare legs. As soon as he came in, she hastily adjusted the wrap, but he had seen all right.
He felt the blood mounting to his head and he came over and sat beside her.
She said, “Do you like being rich?”
He was a little startled. “Why, sure,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“You know, money means so much to some people. To me, it doesn’t mean anything at all. Once I saw a man with a hundred-dollar bill. I had never seen a bill like that before. He was awfully pleased with himself.”
Denny laughed. He put his hand behind him and pulled out a big wallet from his hip pocket. “Ever seen a thousand-dollar bill?” he asked, opening his case. “And I don’t look so pleased with myself, do I?”
He opened the wallet and took out a fat packet of currency. He had eight one thousand-dollar bills and a number of hundred-dollar bills. Stella went very white. “Oh,” she said, “put it away. Don’t let—”
Gerda said softly from behind them: “It’s there. Enough money to live on for months. To go down Lincoln Road and buy what you want. To go to Dache’s or Miller’s. To eat at Allen’s. Miami would kneel to us.”
Denny spun round, snapping the wallet shut. “Where the hell did you come from?” he asked.
Gerda stood looking at him, her green eyes like bits of glass, without expression, shiny and hard. “You are a very fortunate man, Mr. Merlin,” she said. “I am going to bed now. Perhaps by tomorrow the storm will be over. We shall go our different ways soon afterwards. I don’t think I shall ever forget you.” She went to the door and then turned. “I should come too, Stella,” she said. “Mr. Merlin will want to sleep. Good night,” and she went out, shutting the door behind her.
Denny looked at Stella. “What did she mean—never forget me?”
Stella was still looking very pale. “I don’t know,” she said: “I wish I did.”
There was silence but for the howl of the wind, then Denny forced a laugh. “She’s gone to bed, anyway. Will you have another drink?”
Stella shook her head, and made as if to rise to her feet, but Denny stopped her. “Don’t go,” he said. “You know, I was hoping that we should be left alone. I want to talk to you. I want to hear your voice. Look, let’s be comfortable.” He got up and switched out the light. The room was lit only by the fire. He came and sat down close to her. “Isn’t that rather nice?” he asked, putting a glass into her hand. “Come on, drink up. After all, the evening is still very young and we might be here for days. We ought to get to know each other.”
Stella put the glass down on the table beside her. “I must go,” she said. “Really, Mr. Merlin, I can’t stay with you. It’s—it’s not right.”
“Can’t you call me Denny? Isn’t this rather thrilling to meet as we have and to be sheltering from a hurricane in someone else’s house, before a fire, like this? Listen, Stella, it is like a fairy tale. It can’t be treated like any other day.”
“Oh, I know, Denny, but I shouldn’t really be here. Gerda will be wondering—”
He slid his arm along the back of the settee behind her head and leant over her. “Do you mind what Gerda’s thinking?” he asked. “Can’t you let time stand still for an hour? Let me tell you that I love you. That you are the most lovely thing in this ugly world. You make this hurricane seem thin and pale beside your beauty. Look at me, Stella, can’t we go into fairyland together just for an hour? Can’t we forget that you are you and I am I? Won’t you leave this world and come with me?” He drew her towards him, and pale, almost fainting with fear, Stella relaxed against him.
Denny touched her lips with his and then, as he felt them yield to him, he caught her to him urgently. He was deaf to the storm raging outside and blind to reason. Stella affected him like no other woman had ever affected him. He slid his hand into her open wrap and eased it off her shoulders.
In the firelight he could see her whiteness and he drew her down on the settee, pushing her back so that he was leaning right over her. He lowered his face against the coolness of her breasts and he groaned softly with the ecstasy of the moment.
Gerda, coming into the room like a dark shadow, stole up behind them. The firelight reflected in her fixed staring eyes, and Stella, looking over Denny’s shoulder, bit back a scream of fear as she saw Gerda’s hand suddenly sweep up, holding something that glittered.
Stella tried to push Denny away, but already the glittering thing was coming down swiftly and Denny relaxed limply on her with a choking cough. With a wild scream, Stella pushed him on to the floor and scrambled up.
“What have you done?” she screamed at Gerda. “What have you done?” She stumbled over to the lamp and turned it on.
Gerda was standing over Denny, her face white and hard. She said, without looking at Stella, “Shut up! Don’t make a sound.”
Denny rolled over on his side and struggled up on his elbow. A long, thin-bladed table-knife was driven deeply
