She said, “Do you like being rich?”
He was a little startled. “Why, sure,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“You know, money means so much to some people. To me, it doesn’t mean anything at all. Once I saw a man with a hundred-dollar bill. I had never seen a bill like that before. He was awfully pleased with himself.”
Denny laughed. He put his hand behind him and pulled out a big wallet from his hip pocket. “Ever seen a thousand-dollar bill?” he asked, opening his case. “And I don’t look so pleased with myself, do I?”
He opened the wallet and took out a fat packet of currency. He had eight one thousand-dollar bills and a number of hundred-dollar bills. Stella went very white. “Oh,” she said, “put it away. Don’t let—”
Gerda said softly from behind them: “It’s there. Enough money to live on for months. To go down Lincoln Road and buy what you want. To go to Dache’s or Miller’s. To eat at Allen’s. Miami would kneel to us.”
Denny spun round, snapping the wallet shut. “Where the hell did you come from?” he asked.
Gerda stood looking at him, her green eyes like bits of glass, without expression, shiny and hard. “You are a very fortunate man, Mr. Merlin,” she said. “I am going to bed now. Perhaps by tomorrow the storm will be over. We shall go our different ways soon afterwards. I don’t think I shall ever forget you.” She went to the door and then turned. “I should come too, Stella,” she said. “Mr. Merlin will want to sleep. Good night,” and she went out, shutting the door behind her.
Denny looked at Stella. “What did she mean—never forget me?”
Stella was still looking very pale. “I don’t know,” she said: “I wish I did.”