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dark hair was sleek and straight, drawn back from her
face in a chignon.
Her mouth was painted glistening red,
her chiselled cheeks almost classically perfect. Yet there
was a falseness, a coldness about her which made Kate
dislike her.
Mrs. Lillitos introduced Sam and Kate to them, and
Marie-Louise stared at her with insolence.
“A schoolteacher?” she repeated, then laughed, look-
ing at Marc. She turned her head aside and whispered to
him. Kate caught the words, “How irritating for you to
have to put up with them, mon cher.”
Marc did not reply. A man had come up the steps into
the house and stood, watching them all with a smile. He
was tall, dark and about twenty-four, with curly hair,
pleasant brown eyes and a relaxed air.
“Jean-Paul,” said Marc, “come and meet my sister’s
friends.”
Pallas sat like a frozen statue, staring at her feet. The
newcomer glanced at her, then at her brother, his brown
eyes enquiring.
Marc said Kate and Sam’s names. “This is Jean-Paul
Filbert,” he told them, “a cousin of ours.”
He smiled at them, but his eyes rested longest on
Sam, with curiosity and intentness. Sam was rather red,
Kate saw. She wondered, suddenly, if this could be the
man Pallas had told her about—the man Marc intended
her to marry when she left college. Surely not? she
thought. He’s much older than Pallas. But she knew
that, even these days, arranged marriages were common
