“Please,” she said. “Don’t tell me if you can’t trust me. Just don’t lie to me.” She stabbed out her cigarette. “It’s getting late, and I want to start out early tomorrow. I’m going up to bed.”
He looked at her slim loveliness silhouetted in the light from inside, and moved toward her. Gradually, as though in spite of herself, she responded to his kiss. But when she drew away, she looked at him with cool composure.
“Just to save any embarrassment,” she said, “I think I ought to tell you that I’m going to lock my door. Good night.”
She had been gone for several minutes before Conway’s reason was able to dominate his emotions. Then, tormented and desolate as he was, he decided that perhaps it was just as well.
Chapter eleven
Bauer called early the next morning to tell Conway he would be wanted at the line-up and that his car had been released and could be picked up afterward. When he had shaved and dressed, he came downstairs to find Betty at the breakfast table. She was wearing the suit in which she had arrived.
“I’m disappointed,” he said. “I’d hoped for the other breakfast costume.”
She poured the coffee and smiled at him.
“Some other time — maybe. You might let me come over here occasionally and take a sunbath. But as soon as I do these dishes, I’m off. I’ve got to find a place today.”
“They’re releasing my car this morning — I ought to be back here with it by noon. Wait until then — I can drive you around this afternoon, cover a lot more ground, and save a good deal of wear and tear on the feet.”