The Case of the Crimson Kiss

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Preoccupation with her own happiness prevented Fay Allison from seeing the surge of bitter hatred in Anita’s eyes.

So Fay, wrapped in the warmth of romantic thoughts, went babbling on to her roommate, her tongue loosened by the double cocktail which Anita had prepared before dinner.

“I’d known I loved him for a long time,” she said, “but honestly, Anita, it never occurred to me that Dane was the marrying kind. He’d had that one unfortunate affair, and he’d always seemed so detached and objective about things. Of course, underneath all that reserve he’s romantic and tender. Anita, I’m getting a break I don’t deserve.”

Anita Bonsal, having pushed her dinner plate to one side, toyed with the stem of her empty cocktail glass. Her eyes were pinpricks of black hatred which she was afraid to let Fay Allison see. “You’ve fixed a date?” she asked, concentrating on the rotating base of the glass.

“Just as soon as Aunt Louise can get here. I want her to be with me. I... and, of course, I’ll want you, dear.”

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