He blew smoke slowly through his lips and gazed at her, smiling a little but not very much. It was rather nice to gaze at her like that, with the subdued lamplight on her bronze head, and feel that it was the most obvious and inescapable thing for them to be doing.
This was absurd, of course; but some absurdities were more sure than any commonplace probabilities.
He picked up his glass again. He had to say something, and he didn't know what it would be.
The door-bell beat him to it.
The shrill tinny sound ripped shockingly through his silence, but the lift of his brows was microscopic. And her answering grimace was just as slight.
"Excuse me," she said.
She got up and went down the long hall corridor. He heard the door open, and heard a tuneless contralto voice that twanged like a flat guitar string.
" Hul lo, darling! — oh, I'm so glad I didn't get you out of bed. Could I bring the body in for a second?"
There was the briefest flash of a pause, and Avalon said: "Oh, sure."
The door latched, and there was movement.