WE DROVE PAST A SHRINE and around two curves, climbing all the while, past some huddled houses on the left, and the whole shining sea spread out on the right.
The woman said, "If you know a place where the coffee is drinkable, stop."
"I have no money," I said. Diamonds I had, a bagful of them, for we knew that huddlers treasured diamonds. But no money.
"I've got money," she said. "I've got a hell of a lot more money than I have sense. Have you ever been in love, Bogart?"
"Never," I said.
We were coming into a small huddled area, now. A sign read, Pacific Palisades.
"I have," she said. "I still am. Isn't it a miserable rotten world?"
"This one?" I asked, and then said quickly, "I mean—this part of it?"
"Any part of it," she said. "I've seen most of it, and any part where there's men
