She seemed aware of it also. For a moment her dark eyes met his with a kind of pensive directness, then dropped.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"I'll never be quite the same again after today, Andy," Ellen murmured at last.
He stared morosely at his hands. "I'm sorry. I guess I did spring the story a bit too suddenly. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all, done a quiet fade-out."
"I think I'd rather have known what happened to you than otherwise." She traced a design on the blanket with one slim finger, then said, "Andy, you made a remark in the car—about avoiding what you called romantic complications. Were you avoiding them because you were eventually going away with this Nela female?"
He nodded. "Something like that."
"Wasn't it because you were in love with her?"
"Why, I ... I don't think so." He was startled. "I guess it's true that I had a crush on her as a kid, but I haven't seen her for fifteen years. I hardly feel I ever knew her."
"Then even though you're going away with her, there is someone you care for?"
He hesitated for an aching instant, finally managed a shrug. "It isn't important. Not any more."