was partially empty, using the space for surplus food---always of highest quality, since airlines purchased nothing but the best. A Thermos jug, brought aboard empty, was useful for carrying off spare liquids---cream or even decanted champagne. If a stewardess was really enterprising, Demerest was once assured, she could cut her weekly grocery bill in half. Only on international flights where, by law, all food---untouched or otherwise---was incinerated immediately after landing, were the girls more cautious.
All this activity was strictly forbidden by regulations of all airlines---but it still went on.
Another thing stewardesses learned was that no inventory check of removable cabin equipment was ever made at the termination of a flight. One reason was that airlines simply didn't have time; another, it was cheaper to accept some losses than make a fuss about them. Because of this, many stewardesses managed to acquire home furnishings---blankets, pillows, towels, linen napkins, glasses, silverware---in surprising quantity, and Vernon Demerest had been in stewardess nests where most items used in daily living seemed to have come from airline sources.
Gwen broke in on his thoughts. "What I was going to tell you, Vernon, is that I'm pregnant."
It was said so casually that at first the words failed to register. He reacted blankly. "You're what?"
"Pregnant---p-r-e-g-n..."
He snapped irritably, "I know how to spell it." His mind wasitill groping. "Are you sure?"
Gwen laughed---her attractive silvery laugh---and sipped her tea. He sensed she was making fun of him. He was also aware that she had never looked more lovely and desirable than at this moment.
"That line you just said, darling," she assured him, "is an old cliche. In every book I've ever read where there's a scene like this, the man asks, 'Are you sure?' "
"Well, goddammit, Gwen!" His voice rose. "Are you?"
"Of course. Or I wouldn't be telling you now." She motioned to the cup in front of him. "More tea?"
"No!"
"What happened," Gwen said calmly, "is perfectly simple. On that layover we had in San Francisco... you remember?---we stayed at that gorgeous hotel on Nob Hill; the one with the view. What was it called?"
"The Fairmont. Yes, I remember. Go on."
"Well, I'm afraid I was careless. I'd quit taking pills because they were making me overweight; then I thought I didn't need any other precautions that day, but it turned out I was wrong. Anyway, because I was careless, now I have a teensy-weensy little Vernon Demerest inside me who's going to get bigger and bigger."
There was a silence, then he said awkwardly, "I suppose I shouldn't ask this..."
She interrupted. "Yes, you should. You're entitled to ask." Gwen's deep dark eyes regarded him with open honesty. "What you want to know is, has there been anyone else, and am I positive it's you? Right?"
"Look, Gwen..."
She reached out to touch his hand. "You don't have to be ashamed of asking. I'd ask too, if things were the other way around."
He gestured unhappily. "Forget it. I'm sorry."
"But I want to tell you." She was speaking more hurriedly now, a shade less confidently. "There hasn't been anybody else; there couldn't be. You see... I happen to love you." For the first time her eyes were lowered. She went on, "I think I did... I know I did... love you, I mean---even before that time we had in San Francisco. When I've thought about it, I've been glad of that, because you ought to love someone if you're to have his baby, don't you think so?"
"Listen to me, Gwen." He covered her hands with his own. Vernon Demerest's hands were strong and sensitive, accustomed to responsibility and control, yet capable of precision and gentleness. They were gentle now. Women he cared about always had that effect on him, in contrast to the rough brusqueness with which he dealt with men. "We have to do some serious talking, and make some plans." Now that the first surprise was over, his thoughts were becoming orderly. It was perfectly clear what needed to be done next.
"You don't have to do anything." Gwen's head came up; her voice was under control. "And you can stop wondering whether I'm going to be difficult, or whether I'll make things awkward for you. I won't. I knew what I was getting into; that there was the chance this would happen. I didn't really expect it to, but it has. I had to tell you tonight because the baby's yours; it's part of you; you ought to know. Now you do, I'm also telling you you don't have to worry. I intend