“You can’t stay here,” he said abruptly.
“What?” She was taken aback at the sudden harshness in his voice. “What is it? You act as if you were afraid of me.”
He laughed, as convincingly as he could, and realized he had been doing a very bad job of acting. “Why should I be afraid of you?”
“Well, you needn’t be. I noticed there’s a lock on my door, and I suppose there’s one on yours.”
So she thinks I can’t resist her charms, Conway reflected. Isn’t sex wonderful? He was quite willing to disguise himself in wolf’s clothing if it would help get rid of her. But he needed a chance to plan a new campaign.
“I haven’t had any lunch,” he said. “Maybe that’s why I’m a little edgy. How about you?”
“I thought that’s what was wrong with you,” she said. “But you’ve been cross-questioning me so much I haven’t had a chance to suggest it. I’ll get it right away. You see, I told you I could be a help.” She headed for the kitchen, and Conway followed. “Go away,” she said. “This is my department.” Conway retired to the living room to consider his problem. He had got nowhere when she announced, in an amazingly short time, that lunch was ready.
The meal was good, but the luncheon could hardly have been called a success. It was eaten in almost complete silence: Conway volunteered no conversation, fearing that he might make some slip, and warily responded to her efforts with no more than a “Yes” or “No.” By the time they finished, she appeared to have given up. But she made one final effort.
“This is a depressing room,” she said, indicating the dining room which Conway himself had always disliked. “Don’t you ever eat out there?” She pointed to the small square of brick outside the French windows, which, in accordance with California custom, was dignified by the name of “patio.”
“No,” he said.