“There are no pine trees here,” she said, in her husky voice. “Sit down and have your coffee.”
He obeyed her and sat down quickly, and quickly he took the coffee-cup from her.
“Have a little mastika with it,” she said.
And she pushed a tall liqueur-glass full of the colorless liquid towards him.
“Yes,” he said.
As he drank he looked out sideways through the wide opening in the pavilion. There was not a breath of wind.
“I can’t understand why I heard the noise of wind in pine trees,” he forced himself to say.
“Seemed to hear it,” she corrected him. “Perhaps you were thinking of it.”
“But I wasn’t!”
A jeweled gleam from the lamp fell upon one side of her face. She moved, and the light dropped away from her.