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panelled lounge, talking quietly.
She stood by the door, watching them, feeling a surge of
resentment against Marc Lillitos for the bored expression
on his dark face. She forgot the number of times she had
been irritated by Peter’s passion for the past. It never
entered his head that not everyone shared his interest, and
even Sam had been known to ask him to shut up about
ancient civilisation. But now it was just another crime to
chalk up against the name of Lillitos, and she illogically
felt pleased to be able to do so.
Marc turned his head and saw her. Her heart did that
annoying backward flip which she had only begun to notice
since meeting him. There was something about the look in
the grey eyes which bothered her a good deal—a lazy,
mocking intimacy, as though he not only knew and
understood her, but could read her mind with a glance. It
was alarming to feel so transparent.
She came forward and Peter turned to smile at her.
“Oh, there you are, Kate! I’ve made all the arrangements
with Lillitos. He’s kindly offered me camping equipment—
a tent, blankets, sleeping bag, even cooking facilities.”
“You’re going to sleep on the site?” Kate interrupted.
“But, Peter, this is a holiday!”
He stared, in mild bewilderment. “Well, I couldn’t make
the journey every day, you know, there and back. The
temple is up there,” pointing out of the long window,
which looked up at a green expanse of mountainous
country, “on that hooked peak. Mr. Lillitos says you can
see the whole of the island from the top—a good strategic
position for a fortress. There must be more than a temple
