Suddenly Lee's decency took command. "I'm sorry--more sorry than I can
say. Forgive me?"
She returned his smile. "There is nothing to forgive. Would you like
some coffee?"
"That's an idea, but mainly I want to talk."
"About what?"
"Who brought me here? Who--" he rubbed a hand across his chin. "Who
cleaned me up and shaved me?"
"Mr. Clifford."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I imagine he had a reason."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. In China perhaps--South America--India."
Lee smiled wryly. "Okay--okay. Ask a foolish question, you get a
foolish answer."
"I spoke the truth."
"What is he? A traveling sales man?"
Again Daphne considered with deep seriousness. "I suppose you could
call him that?"
"When will he be back? I want a few more words with him."
"I doubt," Daphne said, "if you will ever see him again."
Lee tried to stand. He made a bad job of it. He swayed and sat down
again. She was beside him instantly. "Your head?"
"My _two_ heads."
"Perhaps I can help." Her fingers were cool on his skin; live,
soothing, merciful. Lee closed his eyes and was enveloped in a
wonderful sense of well-being. Then he realized what seemed like a
long time had been only a few moments. But his headache was gone.
* * * * *