“I see you haven’t my philosophy,” Gerda returned, moving across the room to the door. “Still, you have plenty of money, haven’t you? Leave them something. That’s what money is for, isn’t it?”
Denny undressed quickly after she had gone, and gave himself a brisk rub down with a towel. He couldn’t help thinking how much more pleasant it would have been to be in this house with Stella alone. He dressed in a pair of flannel trousers and heavy sweater over a white silk shirt and took his wet clothes into the kitchen.
Gerda, dressed in a dark red dressing-gown, her long slender feet in a pair of Turkish slippers, was preparing a meal. On the table close at hand stood a large cocktail-shaker and three glasses.
Denny picked the shaker up and sniffed at it. “Gin and du Bonnet,” he said. “Hell! This is going to be quite a party.”
Gerda said, “You like Stella, don’t you?” She said it very casually, without looking at him.
Denny paused, his hand hovering over one of the glasses he was about to pick up. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
“What I say,” Gerda went on, turning a thick slice of ham on the grille. “I know what you’ve been thinking. You’d like to sleep with her, wouldn’t you?”
Denny controlled himself with an effort. He poured out the cocktails and then came over and put one of them close beside her. “I’m not used to that sort of talk,” he said quietly. “I suppose it is pretty general where you come from?”
Gerda sipped her drink. “That still doesn’t answer my question,” she said, suddenly looking at him. “You would like her in bed, wouldn’t you, Mr. Merlin?”
Denny finished his drink and poured out another one. “I’m certainly not going to discuss a subject like that with you,” he said abruptly. “After all, you’re the third party, and as such you have no business at all to suggest such a thing.”