“Jim’s all right in his way, but he couldn’t have done it.”
“I am paid,” she said simply.
“Paid?”
“Yes. Knowing that you live.”
“No. You think you mean that, perhaps, but you don’t.”
“I don’t mean what?” she asked in surprise.
“You don’t mean that you are paid.”
She turned away, and looked out the window, her heart throbbing.
“I must tell you something, Miss Gaylord,” he went on resolutely. “I’m not grateful.”