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years I lived there. Very happy, earn lot of money. But
then I met the boss and he says come to Kianthos, be my
driver-mechanic-man of work. Handyman, they call it in
the States. I figure that I never manage to save enough to
come home on my own. So I accept.”
“And are you glad you came?” she asked him.
“Sure I’m glad. The boss is a great guy—generous,
warm-hearted, a real Greek. And I like cars. I was always
homesick, you know? I mean, the States is great, but I’m a
Greek.” He pulled up with a jolt and she looked around her
with great interest. They were on the mountain slope now,
the track nothing but a whitened ribbon between grass and
rocks, pitted and scarred.
“This is as far as I can take you, miss. You want I
should walk up there with you? You follow this track to the
top. But it gets difficult as you get higher. You might slip,
or get dizzy.”
“No, thank you,” she smiled. “I have climbed before and
I have a good head for heights. You’d better get back—I
think Miss Pallas wants you to drive her somewhere.”
He saluted. “Okay by me. I’ll be back at four o’clock. You
got a watch, miss?”
She showed it to him and he nodded. Then he stood by
the car, watching her intently as she began the steep climb
to the top. After a while he clearly decided she was
competent enough, because she heard the sound of the
engine, and the grinding of the wheels on stones as he
turned back the way they had come.
The climb was more difficult that she had anticipated.
Several times she slipped, her hands clutching at the face,
