“Not if you tell him not to.”
“What makes you say that?”
I had been driving aimlessly. Now I pulled in to the kerb, and stopped where I could look at her face while I was talking, “He’s pretty sweet on you.”
“He’s frightfully jealous.”
“You don’t need to tell him the truth. Just tell him that I’m not the man.”
“No, that won’t work. He’d be suspicious — think I had a crush on you or something. It would make him all the worse.”
“How much,” I asked, “do you want?”
“It isn’t a question of money. I want to get out of here. I want to take a plane for South America. I can take care of myself after I get there, but I need some get-away money, and I need somebody to engineer it who’s smart, someone who knows the ropes. You can do it.”
I said, “Try again, Esther.”
Her eyes raised to mine. For a moment there was glittering hatred in them. “You mean that after all I’ve done for you, you won’t do it?”