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Marc’s lip curled. “You don’t mind?” he asked. “You
lack the usual feminine vanity, then. Doesn’t it worry
you that he couldn’t care less whether you are ill or not?”
“You don’t understand Peter,” she said hurriedly. During
her illness she had had plenty of time in which to think
about herself, and she had come to a decision about
Peter. She had made up her mind to
ask him if he would release her from their engagement.
But she had no intention of letting Marc Lillitos know
that. She did not want to discuss the subject with him.
Marc was watching her, with narrowed eyes. “Do you
understand Peter Hardy?” he asked her coolly. “Do you
realise what a selfish, irresponsible, coldblooded fish he
really is?”
She flushed and walked past him without answering.
She was still engaged to Peter. She would not be disloyal
to him now.
That afternoon, the other visitors arrived, and Marc
drove down to the airfield to meet them.
Pallas was sulky as she sat with her mother and Sam,
waiting for the black car to return. Mrs. Lillitos kept a
stern eye upon her and checked an attempt she made to
escape with Sam to play tennis, while Kate sat back,
watching, wondering why Pallas was in such a strange
mood.
The visitors arrived, talking in French which sounded
like machine guns rattling away, and Kate hoped that
they spoke some English, or the rest of the holiday was
going to become a nightmare.
Marc came in, ushering two women before him,
