“As a matter of fact,” she said, “it’s only a few more months.”
“Well, cheer up,” he said. “If you can last that long you may still have a chance.”
“Maybe by that time I wouldn’t want it,” she said, with her disturbing eyes dwelling on him.
Simon lighted a cigarette and looked up across the patio as a door opened and Lissa and Esther came out. Lissa carried a book, with her forefinger marking a place: she put it down open on the table beside her, as if she was ready to go back to it at any moment. She looked very gay and fresh in a play suit that matched her eyes.
“Have you and Ginny solved it yet?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” said the Saint. “As a matter of fact, we were mostly talking about other things.”
“I’ll take two guesses,” said Esther.
“Why two?” snapped Ginny. “I thought there was only one thing you could think of.”
The arrival of Angelo for their orders fortunately stopped that train of thought. And then, almost as soon as the Filipino had disappeared again and the cast were settling themselves and digging their toes in for another jump, Freddie Pellman made his entrance.
Like the Saint, he wore swimming trunks and a perfunctory terry-cloth robe. But the exposed portions of him were not built to stand the comparison. He had pale blotchy skin and the flesh under it looked spongy, as if it had softened up with inward fermentation. Which was not improbable. But he seemed totally unconscious of it. He was very definitely himself, even if he was nothing else.