"Ever since when, Gil? Then you have known such a woman?"
He moved his head.
"You have!... And you cared for her?"
He nodded again.
"You loved her?" she hurried on.
His voice was hoarse. "Yes." The monosyllable got out somehow.
"You still love her. I know it, I can see it. Who is she, Gil? I want to know."
"Don't you know?" he asked, and looked her straight in the eyes.
Before she could answer, there were footsteps outside, and Pell could be heard whistling. He rushed in now, the bag still clutched in his hand. At once he sensed something strange in their attitude, and he eyed both of them shrewdly, covertly, briefly. Not a word was uttered. He threw the bag on the table, as though he had noticed nothing, and in the most matter-of-fact tone said,