They stood just inside the door. Norma turned and walked decisively to the divan. She sat down. "I think you'd better explain."
"I ... I need some money," Herb said. "There's something I have to get."
"What is it?"
"I.... Please trust me, please," he said.
She hesitated; then: "How much do you need?"
"A ... hundred dollars. Could you let me have—loan me—that much?"
Norma knew he was not insane; there was something here that she did not understand, but it was not insanity. Her emotions went out to him. She saw the present situation only in personal terms, their own relationship. She saw no wider implications. Intuition, she would have called it. Decisively, she phoned for the bellboy and when he came, gave him a check for the management to cash.
While they were waiting for the money, she said, "Won't you tell me—?"
"I can't. I can't. I wish I could. Please, if you'll—" he hesitated, and then, with sickness and loathing, said, "trust me...."
The money came.