"I like heat waves. Besides—I spent the afternoon in an air-conditioned apartment. I'm all cooled off for the weekend."
"If you change your mind—we'll find a chilled spot later."
"Then I'll change it—" she looked across the glass-rim—"later. I was over at the apartment of a girl named Charmaine. Used to work for Hattie—and then became the friend of a lad who died and left her millions."
"Nice gal?"
Gwen said, with a quick, small indrawn breath, "Darling!" Then she glanced at me again—and flushed.
"Hattie told me all about Charmaine," I said.
"It—it—only makes me want a man—!" She was afraid I'd be indignant, or perhaps disgusted. "That's true! In fact—that's what Charmaine tries—to do. She likes to make people all hot and bothered. She—!"
The girl was embarrassed—and yet remembering, at the same time. The glass tilted a little in her hand. I went over to her and touched her. "Didn't they tell you about me?"
She laughed, then, and sat down. "I was fussed, I guess. Some men—"