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She found Pallas and Sam playing a strenuous game of
tennis, and watched them until Sam won. They wandered
towards her, flushed and panting.
“I am exhausted!” Pallas puffed, throwing herself down
on the grass.
Sam grinned at her. “Weakling! I could play another
game and still win!”
Pallas grimaced at him. “The conceit of him! Did you
hear that, Kate? Your brother is absolutely the most
conceited boy I ever met!” She aimed a lazy blow at his leg
with her racquet, not intending it to land. “Take that, you
scoundrel!”
Sam danced out of reach nimbly. “You’re just jealous,” he
observed loftily. “Women aren’t called the weaker sex for
nothing.”
Pallas howled at him, “Male chauvinist pig!”
“Language, language!” Sam teased.
Kate interposed lazily, “Children, children, don’t
squabble!”
The remark had the desired effect of silencing them both.
She looked from one to the other of them, smiling. Their
behaviour strongly confirmed her belief that there was no
romantic attachment between them. Only a brother-and-
sister relationship could explain the squabbling, the
rudeness, the teasing. They were too casual with each other
for anything else.
“I just had a chat with your mother, Pallas,” she said.
Pallas sat up, tossing back her long black hair. “Oh, yes?”
“She tells me that she has decided to send you to Paris to
study music.”
