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dripping wet, and stared at herself in the full length
mirror on the wall. She even looked different. She could
not be sure what it was, but her eyes had a new
expression. They were more alive, more secretive, as
though concealing something, even from herself. That
look of youth was beginning to go. Her mouth had an
adult bitterness in its curves.
She shivered, and began to dry herself vigorously.
Slipping into her new dressing-gown, she padded
towards her own room, and met Marc coming out of his.
He still wore his jeans and sailing shirt. They looked at
each other in silence for a moment.
“I’ve rung the doctor,” he said curtly. “He’ll be here in
four hours. He has to come over from Epilison and this
is not his usual day for visiting Kianthos.”
Kate shrugged, “There’s no hurry.” She went past
him, in a cloud of perfumed talcum, and he caught her
arm.
“Kate,” he said huskily, “why do you fight me all the
time?”
She couldn’t look up at him. She was too painfully
aware of him, big and dark and dominating, standing
very close to her. He waited for a moment, then dropped
her arm and stalked away down the stairs.
He did not appear at lunch, nor did his mother, who
was recovering from the shock of believing them both
drowned yesterday. Sam, Pallas and Kate lunched
quietly together. Then the doctor arrived, examined her
and pronounced her perfectly fit, but slightly shocked.
“No more excitement,” he ordered. “Rest, relaxation.”
