She was wet through and her clothes stuck to her body, as if they were painted on her. She was feeling completely exhausted after the struggle to get Denny into the car, and she poured herself out a stiff shot of whisky. She felt better for that.
So far so good, she told herself, looking round the disordered room. She dare not leave it like that. There was only one quick way to destroy that sort of evidence. She remembered seeing a spare can of gasoline on the running-board of the Lincoln and she went out and got it. She left the can in the lounge and walked into the kitchen.
Stella was still sitting where she had left her. She had stopped crying, but her limbs continued to shiver and tremble.
“We’re getting out of here,” Gerda said. “Come on, pull yourself together for God’s sake.”
Stella gave a little shudder at the sound of her voice. “Go away,” she said, “I don’t ever want to see you again. Oh, God, whatever shall I do? Look what you’ve got me into.”
Gerda stood very still. “What do you mean?” she said softly. “You’re to blame as much as I.”
Stella sprang to her feet. She looked a little insane. “I knew you’d say that,” she screamed. “But I didn’t kill him. I never wanted to kill him. I didn’t want him to make love to me—you made me! Do you hear? You made me!”
Gerda said: “Pull yourself together. If you want to get away with this you’ve got to use your head and help me.”
“Leave me—go away! He said you were bad, and I didn’t believe him. He warned me against you. Oh, how could you do such a thing?” She buried her head in her arms and began sobbing again wildly.
A sudden expression crossed Gerda’s face, making her look old and ugly. She said: “Don’t you see it was as much for you as for me? We can be rich now, Stella. We won’t have to pinch and scrape any more. You won’t have to lie with any more men. We’ve got all that behind us. Isn’t that worth something?”