Get a Load of This

     Denny paid him and walked over to the edge of the road, where the two girls were watching the trucks pass. “Think we ought to go on?” he asked. “These people are coming in from outlying farms because of the hurricane.”

     Gerda said very decisively: “A little rain and wind wouldn't stop me. It's your car, you can please yourself what you do.”

     “Well, let's get on then,” Denny said, turning to the car.

     “You wouldn't like to stake us to a meal, would you, Mr. Merlin?” Gerda asked, smiling with her mouth.

     Denny looked at her. “Say, what is this?” he asked. “Are you two flat broke, or something?”

     Gerda moved over to the car. “Think no more about it, Mr. Merlin. Forget I ever spoke.”

     Denny turned to Stella. “You tell me. I can talk to you.”

     Stella hesitated and then nodded. “I guess we're tight for money just now,” she said awkwardly. “But we ain't really hungry. Please don't—”

     Denny said, “Wait for me,” and walked over to a coffee-shop. He came back with two paper bags and dumped them down on the seat. “There you are,” he said, “that ought to hold you until we get to Fort Pierce. We'll have a decent meal then. Let's get on before we waste any more time.”

     He drove out of New Smyrna in silence. The two girls ate the chicken sandwiches silently and ferociously. Gerda said, “Is that Scotch you've got there?”

     Denny handed the flask over his shoulder without a word. He was beginning to understand why Gerda looked after the outfit, as she called it. She wasn't slow in getting what she wanted.

     They drove along the Indian River. It was just dusk enough to see the luminous water, ruffled by an increasing wind. Every now and then faint flames seemed to be flickering along the top of the water. The scene so enchanted Denny that he forgot to be annoyed any more, and slowed down so that he could concentrate. Overhead a flight of herons passed, looking dark against the evening sky. Woodpeckers still continued to plunge from the telephone wires like rockets after minnows.

     “This is a grand country,” Denny said to Stella. “I'm mighty glad I decided to come here for my vacation.”

     “Why are you alone?” she asked. “Haven't you got a wife or a girl friend?”

     Denny shook his head. “I guess not,” he said. “I've been too busy making money. Believe it or not, this is the first real holiday I've had in ten years.”

     Gerda said softly in his ear, “Have you made a lot of money?”

     Denny grinned. “Oh, I guess so. Enough to get by.”

     “What do you call big money?” she persisted. “Ten grand, twenty grand, fifty grand—how much?”

     “Five hundred thousand,” Denny said, half to himself. “Believe me, it's nice to feel you've made that little lot just by yourself.”

     Gerda drew a deep breath. The amount left her speechless. They drove in silence for some minutes, then she said: “I guess you can do what you like with all that money.”

     Denny nodded. “It certainly helps,” he said lightly.

     They were running through a road bordered by Australian pine windbreaks which swayed in the increasing wind.

     Stella said suddenly: “Look, the wind is rising. Do you see the trees? It is getting rough.”

     “Well, we'll be all right in this bus,” Denny said confidently. “This old hearse doesn't leak; it can blow and rain as much as it likes.”

     The sun had given place to a big moon. It was almost dark now and Denny switched on his head-lamps. “I like driving in the dark,” he said, “especially in this country. Look at the river now. It looks as if it were on fire.”

     The wind had whipped the water into large waves which flickered like tongues of flame. Overhead small clouds began to race across the moonlit sky, joining up with each other rapidly. They were dark clouds that fled before the wind, gradually building up a barrier between the earth and the moon.

     “This looks like it,” Denny said as the landscape began to fade into darkness. “I guess if it gets too bad we'll have to put up at Fort Pierce.” A thought suddenly struck him. “Haven't you girls got any luggage?”

     Gerda said, “No.”

     There was a long silence and then Denny said, “You two seem to be having a bad time.” He felt uncomfortable, as most very wealthy people do when they run into real poverty. He began to wish he hadn't given them a ride. He supposed that they were going to be a damn nuisance before he had seen the last of them.

     Gerda said, casually: “Oh, we've been in the same sort of spot before. We'll get by.”

     Fine rain appeared on the windscreen and the darkness came down like a shutter. The two brilliant pools of light from the head-lamps lit the road, making the grapefruit trees and the lemon trees look grotesque as they flashed by them.

     Above the soft note of the Lincoln engine they could hear the moan of the wind, and out to sea came the thundery roar of the rollers smashing themselves to foam on the beach.

     A vivid and jagged flash of lightning lit the sky and the first clap of thunder startled them. The rain began to fall in earnest and Denny switched on the rain-wipers. He drove slowly, as he found it difficult to see through the windscreen.