So they brought the hammock from the little back garden and slung it on the veranda. They were hidden from the street by a tangle of honeysuckle. The window behind them was unlighted, and there wasn’t a sound from the house. They might have been alone in the universe. No one disturbed them, no one came into sight. There they sat, in the sweet-scented dark, Tommy on the railing, the little white figure swaying in the hammock.
“Don’t you want to smoke?” she asked.
“Thanks!” he answered. “Yes, I will, if you don’t mind.”
“If it’s cigarettes, I’d like to have one, please.”
He was surprised and rather offended, because this wasn’t according to his idea of her.
“Sure it won’t make you sick?” he asked.[Pg 32]
“Oh, no!” she answered pleasantly. “We used to smoke at boarding school, you know.”
He proffered a lighted match, and in its glare he caught a glimpse of her face, quietly smiling. Again he was fascinated, suddenly, unexpectedly.
They smoked for some time in silence. Tommy could see her curled up in the hammock, swinging just a little. All of a sudden she sighed.
“Oh, dear!”