“Do you? Well, I’m not running away.”
She was very tender with him. After a while Fenner said drowsily, “What are you thinking?”
She put her hand up to his face gently. She said, “I was just thinkin’ how tough it is to run across a guy like you when it’s too late.”
Fenner moved slowly away from her. “You mustn’t look at it like that,” he said seriously.
She suddenly laughed, but her eyes were serious. “I’ll get you some breakfast. You’ll find a razor in the bathroom.”
By the time he’d shaved his beard off, breakfast was on the table. He came and sat down. “Swell,” he said, looking at the food.
The dressing-gown he’d found in the cupboard must have belonged to Nightingale. It reached to his knees and pinched him across his shoulders.
Curly giggled at him. “You do look a scream.”
Fenner made short work of the food, and Curly had to go outside and fry him some more eggs. She said, “I guess you’re mending fast.”
Fenner nodded. “I’m great. Tell me, baby, does Nightingale mean anything to you?”