"But what can I do here?"
Hall drew a deep breath. "Let's both have a cigarette," he said. "This is going to take some telling." He sat up, faced the girl, took her hands and held them firmly. "Now, what I'm going to say might sound harsh, Jerry. But you'll simply have to believe me."
"What is it, Matt?"
"How much do you know about Dr. Ansaldo?"
"Only that he's a nice guy. He's never made a pass at me, he behaves like a gentleman, and he's one crack surgeon. Don't tell me he's no good, Matt. I just won't believe it."
"You'll have to believe me," Hall insisted. "What do you know about Ansaldo's past? Do you know where he was during the Spanish War?"
"I haven't the faintest idea. Do you know?"
"Sure, I do. I saw him." Hall described his first meeting with Ansaldo. As he spoke, Jerry abruptly withdrew her hands. Trembling, she backed away from him, started to get up.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I wish you hadn't made love to me," she said, simply. "Now I feel cheap—and used."