Phil gulped and said nothing, yet that remark did a great deal to humanize her for him. Hallucinations don't make one blush.
"Thas all right," she reassured him. "Windows across, why not? Same thing—windows across and both open a little—make me think maybe my pussycat jump over here. So I step across to see."
"Step across?" Phil demanded a bit hysterically, his gaze once more shooting to her legs.
"Sure," she said smilingly and indicated the window. "Take a look."
With considerable reluctance, Phil unstuck his hand from the door and gingerly walked to the open window. Spanning the ten feet between it and the one opposite, was a flimsy looking telescope ladder of some gray metal.
Phil turned around. "Is it a green cat?" he asked reluctantly.
Her face brightened. "So he did jump across."
Phil nodded. "What's more," he went on rapidly, "I think I met your brother today, a journalist named Dion da Silva, representing the newspaper La Prensa."
She nodded eagerly at the first proper name. "Thas right," she said. "I am Dytie da Silva."
"And I am Phil Gish. Did you say Dytie?"