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to sleep to Mozart.” He shot her an acute glance. “Don’t fall
for Marc, will you? He’s an attractive sort of chap, but
Pallas says he has a girlfriend. French, apparently—a
successful model. She won’t give up her career or Pallas
thinks they would be married by now.”
Kate gritted her teeth and spoke very brightly. “A tough
career girl should suit him! I hope she keeps him tied up in
knots for years. His attitude to women is as out of date as
crinolines.”
Sam laughed. “You’re so right! Look, you don’t mind my
giving you the gypsy’s warning, do you, Sis? It’s just that
I’d hate you to get hurt.”
“You seem to forget I’m engaged to Peter,” she said
rather sharply.
Sam grimaced. “Yes, but then Peter isn’t exactly a ball
of fire in the romance stakes, is he? I mean, an Anglo-
Saxon knee bone gives him more of a thrill than you do!”
“Really, Sam!” she snapped angrily.
Sam looked sheepish. “Oh, I’m sorry. It isn’t my
business, I know, but much as I like Pet
er, he does rather
neglect you. Girls like a bit of attention from time to time.”
“You should write a book on the subject,” she said, “as
you have so much valuable advice.”
Pallas arrived while Sam was groping for a reply, and
they dropped the subject. They talked of what they should
do that day. The sun was already bright, but cold, and the
sky was an unbelievable blue. The idea of a swim that
morning was dismissed, and Sam suggested that Pallas
show them round the island.
