“I climbed the cliff. You should try it sometime when you run out of excitement,” I said, moving into the room. “It’s good for the figure, too; not that there’s anything wrong with yours.”
She bent her thumb and stared at it; then she bit it tentatively.
“You haven’t seen it yet,” she said.
“Is the operative word in that sentence ‘yet’?” I asked, looking at her.
“It could be. It depends on you.”
“Does it?” I sat down. “Shall we have a drink? I’m not quite the man I was. You’ll find my reflexes act better on whisky.”
She moved across the lounge to the cellaret.
“Is it true about the cliff?” she asked. “No one has ever climbed it before.”
“Leander swam the Hellespont, and Hero wasn’t half as good looking as you,” I said lightly.
“You mean you really climbed it?” She came back with a long tumbler full of whisky and ice. It looked a lot more tempting than she did; but I didn’t tell her so.