A week had elapsed and Sylvia and Jenny had not yet met Vienoula. She was at the University of Athens and would not get home for another fortnight. Daros, meanwhile, had adopted an attitude of cool civility towards both Jenny and Sylvia; he was tolerating their presence in the house and nothing more.
'I'm quite sure,' Jenny was telling Sylvia as they relaxed in two loungers on the lawn, 'that Daros will prevent this marriage.'
'You sound relieved,' accused Sylvia, dropping a careless hand to find her cigarette case, which was on the grass by the chair.
'You know very well that I don't agree with the marriage.'
'Why not?' Sylvia took out a cigarette and put it between her lips.
'It's absurd! An old man of seventy! And you only thirty-four.'
'I can put up with him for a year or two.' Sylvia's tone was complacent. 'And then, my love, a few million from his estate! And that disagreeable son of his gnashing his teeth at having to pay me what's my due.'
'You know,' mused Jenny, looking at her through a haze of blue smoke, 'I never really knew you properly until now.'
Sylvia smiled one of her most winning smiles.
'You sound, darling, as if you don't very much like what you've learned about me.'
A momentary frown darkened Jenny's forehead, but a second later she was laughing. Sylvia was a wretch, a woman whose sense of values and priorities was all awry, and yet there was something profoundly attractive about her, and it was an attractiveness that had nothing at all to do with her rare and tempting beauty. She might deceive and entice men, but she had an essential good nature and a paradoxical honesty that Jenny could not avoid being drawn to.
'You're mercenary,' accused Jenny at length.
'Admitted, to a certain extent,' was Sylvia's rejoinder. Jenny had almost been waiting to see her eyes fill up and her lovely mouth tremble. 'But why should so many millions be in so few hands? If, by my strategy, I can convert some of those millions to poor, almost starving little Sylvia here, then is there any logical reason for not doing so? After all, you'll be sharing the spoils, Jenny, and can you imagine the time we'll have? When I become the wealthy widow of the Greek shipping millionaire, one Glavcos Kyrou, we shall begin by having a fabulous house, perhaps in the Bahamas or somewhere equally exotic. We'll book a world cruise on the greatest liner of all time, the Queen! We'll buy our clothes in Paris, we'll travel and celebrate and have the time of our lives and-'
'It sounds exciting and wonderful,' interrupted Jenny, laughing in spite of herself. 'And I must say…' Her voice trailed away as she noticed her stepmother's changing expression. She was staring over Jenny's shoulder and Jenny turned in quick alarm-to look up into the face of Daros Kyrou. 'Y-you-er-how long…?' Jenny's face was scarlet. How much had he heard? Jenny wished with all her heart that she had finished what she was saying, for then he would have heard, '… such a life would be nice, but not at someone else's expense. In any case, it would soon begin to pall.'
'Hello, Daros!' Sylvia gave the dark, formidable Greek a look of angelic innocence. She drew daintily on her cigarette and allowed the thin curl of smoke to rise slowly, watching it with her big soulful eyes. 'How wonderful it is out here in the garden! I feel that when your dear father and I are married I shall be spending a great deal of my time here, enjoying this lovely sun!'
Jenny saw his mouth tighten but otherwise there was no change in his expression. She was left guessing whether or not he had overheard all or even part of their conversation.
'You are very sure of marrying my father.' The clipped foreign voice was as devoid of expression as his dark, forbidding countenance. He gave Sylvia no time to answer but swung away, fury in every step he took.
A moment later Sylvia was saying, 'He must have crept from those bushes onto the lawn.'
'He isn't the kind of man to use stealth in order to eavesdrop.'
'You sound as if he's made a favourable impression on you.'
Jenny shook her head vigorously. 'No such thing. I think he's detestable. On the other hand, you can't blame him for wanting to protect his father, can you?'
Sylvia became pensive, her big, childlike eyes following the tall, erect figure of the man under discussion. He disappeared suddenly, hidden by trees.
'No, I suppose not,' she murmured slowly. 'Loyalty is to be admired. But, darling, has it not occurred to you that it isn't dear Glavcos he's thinking about, but himself? And his sister, of course, who has to have a dowry before she can expect to find a husband. Daros is attractive, don't you think, Jenny?'
The abrupt way in which Sylvia changed the subject threw Jenny and startled her into saying, quite involuntarily, 'You couldn't fall for him, Sylvia!'
The older woman laughed, a rippling laugh that sounded like music drifting over placid water. 'Do you know, darling,' she purred, 'it has just occurred to me that I could fall for him… and in a big way… ooh…' She laughed, this time at her stepdaughter's expression. Disgust and incredulity mingled with bewilderment in those big grey eyes that were always frank and honest, framed as they were by long, curling lashes that often sent enchanting shadows onto Jenny's clear, pale cheeks.
'Sylvia,' admonished Jenny severely, 'I'm beginning to think there are hidden depths to you that are definitely not nice!'
'You don't really believe that, my love. I'm shallow and frivolous but there isn't anything really wicked about me, now is there?'
Strangely, there wasn't. Sylvia was generous to a fault: no one would ask for help and not be given it; beggars were always treated in a way that made their eyes sparkle and their lips move in a blessing. Jenny had more than once seen a suitcaseful of clothes change hands when a gypsy woman came to the door, children at her heels.
Jenny knew that if Sylvia were lucky enough to thwart Daros and marry his father, any money she might get would not be spent entirely on herself.
'I can't believe you'd fall for that detestable Daros,' mused Jenny at length, her eyes on Panos, one of the gardeners, who was working on the lawn close to the house, taking out weeds with a long forked tool. Stocky and very brown, with a splendid show of gold teeth, he wore the vraga, those loose-fitting trousers which, Glavcos had told Jenny, were rarely worn these days by Greek men, especially the young ones. Yet to Jenny they seemed very practical in this hot climate. Certainly Panos seemed comfortable and happy wearing them.
'Daros has got… something,' Sylvia was saying in a soulful voice. 'You must admit, Jenny love, that his particular kind of looks are rare.'
'And formidable. Just imagine being married to a man like that!'
'You'd be the envy of every woman who saw you together.'
'He'd be bossy-no, domineering. You'd have to knuckle under the whole time.'
'It could be exciting to be mastered.'
At that moment the man himself reappeared, striding along the patio towards an open window which, Jenny had learnt, belonged to his private room, his study, where he spent several hours each day.
He was undoubtedly an arresting figure of a man, with his unusual height, his athletic gait, his broad, arrogant shoulders and narrow hips. And what an air of confidence! He looked immaculate even though he was informally dressed, the dark slacks accentuating the leanness of his body even as the white shirt accentuated the mahogany of his skin.
Could it be exciting to be mastered? Jenny had never been in love, although she had had several minor relationships. David Bransley had asked her to marry him, and another young man undoubtedly would have done so with a little encouragement-which he did not get. On the contrary, once she saw how things were developing she immediately withdrew and refused to go out with him anymore. She had no idea what she wanted in the man she would marry. All she did know was that love came first, and all else was of secondary importance. She was an idealist with an optimistic vision of loving and being loved till the end of her days. As for what kind of man she would eventually marry-the mental picture of him had always eluded her. She did not even know if she wanted him to be handsome; at one time she had had a preference for the rugged type and felt she would be at home on a farm, at another time she had decided the office type would suit her very well. He would always be smartly dressed; he'd be intelligent and handy about the house and garden….
Daros was entering his study via the French window; he turned instinctively as if aware that he was being watched. Jenny glanced away but not quickly enough. She felt annoyed with herself for letting him know that he had held her attention. When she looked towards the villa again he had gone and the window was closed.
Jenny rose, restless without knowing why. 'I'm going for a stroll.' She stooped for the book she had never even opened.
'Come for a swim with me,' invited Sylvia, stretching her gorgeous legs with a lazy, sensuous motion. 'Dear Glavcos is resting. I asked him if he swims and he said he used to but not much now.'
'Don't you care that you'll never have any proper life together-if you marry Glavcos, that is?' Jenny stood, book in hand, idly flicking the pages as she stared down at her stepmother.
'You mean, we won't have the same interests?' Sylvia's eyes wandered to the window of Daros's study and a deep sigh escaped her.
'Yes, that's what I mean. In marriage you should both be able to share in the same activities. I'd hate it if my husband couldn't come swimming with me, and play tennis, and take long rambles in the countryside.' Her grey eyes swiftly scanned the immediate surroundings-the lovely gardens alive with colour, heady with perfume; the tall trees of the forest to one side and the orchard to the other; the cerulean sea with a couple of picturesque yachts in the distance; the endless canopy of sapphire above, soft as velvet and bright with sunlight. Not a cloud! And in the garden not a sound other than the drone of insects in the flowers and the whirring of cicadas in the trees. Panos had disappeared and now there was no movement but the gentle swaying of the palms along the seashore and the occasional flash of wings, iridescent in the sun's bright rays.
All was tranquillity. Jenny envied Glavcos and his family-and all the others who lived on the island of Camina, for that matter. She could see other islands basking on the silk-smooth sea, and there were so many more in the Aegean, some barren and scorched by the hot Greek sun, others dotted with windmills and churches, yet each a little different from its neighbours in one way or another. Jenny would like to take a boat and sail to every one, but there would be no time for that on this particular trip.
She mentioned her desires to Sylvia, who shrugged languidly and said, 'Why not, darling? Glavcos has a marvellous yacht. He told me about it and I did have the idea of taking a cruise-just him and me and you…' Her lovely eyes moved slowly towards that particular window again. 'I don't suppose your future stepbrother would come with us… pity!'
'Future stepbrother?' Funny, but Jenny had never thought of him as that, not as a relation at all. Involuntarily, she smiled. The haughty Daros Kyrou would absolutely hate the idea of such a relationship! Much more would he hate to have Sylvia for his stepmother. Poor man! Jenny could sympathise in spite of her dislike of him. The whole business of his father's stupidity must be driving him to distraction.
'Yes, stepbrother,' repeated Sylvia, smiling. 'Not a bad thought, eh-the wealthy Daros Kyrou as your brother? Something to brag about and be proud of.'
Jenny frowned, wrestling with her impatience. Really, Sylvia was extremely provoking at times! It was not often that Jenny felt like telling her off, but she did have the urge now, although all she said was, 'I'd never even mention the relationship, much less brag about it.'
'You don't approve of my marriage to Glavcos, do you, darling?' Sylvia rose and stretched gracefully, like a feline creature of the wilds.
'You know very well I don't approve! I've said so often enough!'
Sylvia wagged a forefinger at her. 'Your trouble is that you've a conscience-or perhaps I should say that you allow your conscience to trouble you. Put it away, my love! It'll sleep cosily in the far recesses of your mind if only you will let it.'
'You're incorrigible, Sylvia!' Jenny had to laugh in spite of the severity in her voice. 'I'm off for my walk. See you later!'
'But I want to go swimming!'
'There's nothing to stop you.' From where she stood Jenny could see the curve of the beach and the smooth line where the sea caressed it. 'I want to do some more exploring of this wonderful island.'
'Very well. Mind you don't get lost.'
***
Half an hour later Jenny was in the hills, watching a lonely donkey pawing the hard, dry ground. It brayed sadly and her heart immediately went out to it.
'If I had the Kyrou millions,' she murmured as she turned away, 'I'd rescue the poor creature.'
She wandered on, coming unexpectedly to a fallen marble column in the middle of a field. She went towards it and found several more. Had this been a shrine in those far-off pagan times when the gods were worshipped in Greece? She strolled about, delighted to discover other relics, one of which was the head of either a Greek god or an athlete. And then a voice made her turn and she saw a young man coming towards her; of medium height, with a clear, bronzed skin and a mass of jet-black hair, he had pleasant features and a friendly smile.
'Kalispéra!' he called. 'Pios isthe?'
'Kalispéra,' she returned, then looked inquiringly at him.
'I asked who you were. Are you on holiday?' His accent was more pronounced than that of either Glavcos or his son.
'No; I'm staying at the Villa Camina.'
'You are?' The young man whistled. 'You're a friend of the Kyrou family?'
She had to smile. Already she had learnt of the irrepressible curiosity of the Greeks. They just had to know all about any stranger who happened to appear. She said in a tone of resignation, 'My stepmother's a friend of Mr. Glavcos Kyrou.'
'Mr. Glavcos?' The young man grinned. 'Is she pretty?'
Jenny stiffened, regretting what she had told him. 'I must go,' she said brusquely.
'You not like me to ask questions, no? Pardon! Tell me your name, please. Mine is Helios.'
'Mine's Jenny-Jenny Northway.'
'And you come from England, yes?'
'That's right.' Already she was turning away.
'I go to England one day soon. I come to see you?'
'I don't think so.'
'I have offended you?' He seemed distressed, she thought, and was impelled to reassure him.
'No, not at all. But I've been walking some time and must get back to the villa. It's almost dinner-time.' Which was not strictly true, but she had to shower and change, then the four of them would gather in the sitting-room for drinks half an hour before the gong was sounded.
'I like to meet your stepmother. She is young and pretty, no doubt.' So confident, the 'no doubt.' It was starkly plain to Jenny that Sylvia was not the first woman to find favour with the old man.
She said, suddenly, wanting to learn something, 'Yes, my stepmother is both young and pretty.'
'Mr. Glavcos likes many young and pretty women.' Helios kicked at one of the broken columns. 'Not so Mr. Daros. He does not much care for women.' He paused, looking at her admiringly. 'You pretty, I like the hair that waves and is curling-so!' He actually came forward and touched the ends of her hair. 'I like you for my friend, no?'
'No,' she returned firmly. 'And now, I really must go!'
'Kali andamossi!'
'What is that?'
'Au revoir!'
'Kali andamossi.' She smiled and, turning, went swiftly from the field and back onto the road, her mind on what he had said about Glavcos's fondness for women.
She had not gone more than a hundred yards when she heard a car coming and she stepped aside to let it pass. Daros was at the wheel and to her surprise he stopped and offered her a lift.
'Thank you.' She had wanted to walk but she found it impossible to refuse the lift after he had been considerate enough to stop.
'You didn't decide to swim, then.' His voice was taut, unfriendly.
'No.' She glanced sideways at him as he set the car in motion again. 'Have you any particular reason for saying that?'
'Your stepmother got into difficulties. Luckily I was on hand; I had just come onto the beach with the intention of taking a dip.' His voice was still unfriendly. 'She ought not to swim if she's so bad at it.'
Jenny frowned, opening her mouth to tell him that Sylvia was an excellent swimmer, then closing it again. What was her stepmother up to now?
'What happened? I mean, was Sylvia too far out or something?'
'Not far out at all. In fact, she appeared to be swimming strongly when I first saw her through the window of my study. But as I got to the beach she began to flounder, thrashing about with her arms and crying out for help.'
'You brought her in?' The vision of Sylvia being carried in Daros's arms shot into focus. Fragile and helpless, murmuring husky words of gratitude in that appealing way of hers, Sylvia could actually have been enjoying herself! Immediately on the heels of this thought came a little tinge of guilt. She could be misjudging her stepmother; Sylvia might genuinely have been in difficulties. Certainly Daros thought so.
'Yes, of course I brought her in. She's lying down-or was when I came out about twenty minutes ago.'
'Your father… does he know?'
'He went up to her room to stay with her.' Again the voice was taut and his profile in the dimness of the car was dark and stern, with his jaw thrust out and his mouth fixed in a tight, uncompromising line.
Jenny sat there quietly, profoundly aware that this was one of those times when silence was vital. Whatever she said to Daros would be wrong, and therefore she had no intention of saying anything. She just stared at his profile, recalling Sylvia's remark that it could be exciting to be mastered. Well, exciting or not, the woman who was mad enough to marry Daros would certainly be mastered.
Something fluttered along Jenny's spine; she felt bewildered by the way he was affecting her even though he was so silent and coldly indifferent. It was as if he were exuding a special magnetism that made her vitally aware of him as a man. She tried not to look at him, at that set, implacable profile, but the effort of resistance seemed only to heighten her awareness of him. Shaken by her emotions, bewildered by the sensations passing through her, she forced herself to speak, remarking on the beauty of the island and marvelling at the casual way she was able to voice those remarks.
'You like it, then?' Daros did not turn his head, nor did his voice hold any expression whatsoever.
'It's beautiful. I've never seen such lovely flowers growing wild before.'
'The climate's suitable for the growing of exotic flowers and trees.'
'Have you always lived here, Mr. Kyrou?'
'No. I lived in Athens until my grandfather died five years ago.'
'Your grandfather?' she repeated, surprised. 'He must have been very old.' Daros's father was seventy; he must have been sixty-five when his own father died.
'He was eighty-eight.' The merest pause, as if he were making sure that Jenny would be ready to take in his next sentence. 'We're a long-lived family; it's quite likely that my father has another twenty years or so.'
Jenny coloured, remembering that Daros might have overheard Sylvia planning what she would do with Glavcos's money when she was widowed. Jenny said in a rather subdued tone of voice, 'I expect you're trying to persuade your father not to marry my stepmother?'
'Naturally.'
'Sylvia's not nearly so bad as she appears…' This was not the right thing to say, decided Jenny, and closed her mouth.
'Are you trying to tell me she isn't a gold-digger?' They were travelling along the coast road, with a fresh, cool breeze sweeping in from the sea and to the right a lush green valley laced with rivulets, its steep sides terraced to grow vines. 'You haven't answered my question, Miss Northway.' Daros's curt voice brought Jenny back from her pleasant appreciation of the scenery.
'I can't answer it.' To her surprise she felt humble and mean and blameworthy. It was as if she were the one who was the gold-digger, who was so mercenary that she would marry for no other reason than to become a rich widow. She ought not to have come here in the first place; it had been her concern for her stepmother that had influenced her, but now she freely admitted that Sylvia was quite capable of taking care of herself.
'The fact that you can't answer it is enlightening enough.' Daros swerved a little to give space to an ambling donkey, heavily laden with vegetables, its owner trudging along beside it. 'Tell me,' he said, when the donkey was safely behind, 'how long has your father been dead?'
She hesitated, again filled with guilt. 'Almost three months,' she answered reluctantly.
'Three months!' He nearly stopped the car in his surprise. 'Only three months-and the pair of you ready to replace him?' His voice was like a rasp, his lips curling in a sneer of contempt. 'I can understand that woman having no love for your father, but you-' He broke off, shaking his head in disbelief. 'What sort of girl are you?'
'My father and I were never close after his marriage.'
'Is that an excuse for forgetting him in less than three months?'
The Greeks, she knew, revered their parents and so she could understand just how he felt. But for her-well, as she had previously realised, she felt more pain for the loss of her mother than for her father, this in spite of the fact that nine years had elapsed since the death of her mother. But then, her mother had been soft and feminine and deeply compassionate and understanding. Her capacity for loving had been as great as that of her daughter and in consequence they had been very close. It was not so with her father. True, they had got along happily before his marriage to Sylvia, but he had always been a hard man where Jenny was concerned, always seeming to adopt the attitude that she could never be a substitute for her mother and so he was wasting his time in trying to show affection. After his marriage he had had very little time for Jenny. The first twelve months had been a great trial for her and several times she had almost left home. But Sylvia was understanding, and kind in her shallow way. Never had she resented Jenny, never had she tried to supplant her stepdaughter in the running of the house. In fact, they got along very well indeed and had been good companions for one another during those last six months of Frederick's life when he had been out every single night and most week-ends, mixing with his pals and gambling away his fortune. That Sylvia might have been the reason for his marked change of habits did occur to Jenny, but she could not accept it as an excuse for what he had been doing.
She was suddenly aware that the man beside her was waiting for an answer to his question and she said quietly, 'I haven't forgotten my father, Mr. Kyrou. I just can't weep for him, that's all.'
He made no further comment but Jenny was not left in any doubt that his opinion of her was now even lower than before.
He turned off, into the town. Bouzouki music drifted out from a café at the front of which several dark-skinned men lounged at tables, drinking ouzo and playing tavla. A white-bearded priest lifted a hand in blessing to Daros as he slowed the car, then stopped altogether, allowing the priest to cross the road.
'Kalispéra sas,' said Daros, his lips stretching in a half-smile.
'Kalispéra.' The priest's face was calm and tranquil, his eyes vacant as if his thoughts were lost in the infinite.
The town was left behind; another bearded priest with restless eyes came towards them, his hand lifted in response to Daros's salute. So deeply religious were the Greeks that it seemed impossible that they had once been pagans, worshipping the mighty gods of Olympus.
The afternoon was fading and the sky was bright and clear over the brooding hills towards which they were travelling. There would be a short spell of shadows when the great fiery ball had disappeared over the horizon, but before then would be the incredible glory of a Greek sunset. Every evening Jenny had stood on her balcony, enthralled by a spectacle she would never have believed possible. And now that spectacle was to appear before her eyes again. She leant back and a small sigh escaped her. If only she had come here on her own, on a normal holiday, how very much she could have enjoyed herself!
The car turned into a small road, then entered an avenue of tamarisk trees that was in effect the drive to the villa. Daros was silent; his very manner seemed part of the atmosphere of peace and the miracle of the sunset. To the west the arc of the sky was fading to lavender above the ranks of frilly, gilt-edged clouds; on the drowsy hillsides the shadows had come to transient life under the fibrous saffron rays escaping from the falling sun. Unconsciously, Jenny gave a deep, appreciative sigh just as the car came to a quiet halt outside the front of the house. Daros turned his head and their eyes met. Jenny's nerves fluttered for no reason that she could understand and her heart gave a tiny jerk that was as pleasant as it was disturbing. What was the matter with her? She had never before felt like this in a man's presence.
She slipped out of the car and stood for a space looking towards the west. She said, absurdly, 'Thank you for the lift, Mr. Kyrou. It's… it's beautiful!'
He blinked, his eyes interrogating. She coloured daintily, unconsciously lifting a small hand to her cheek.
'I meant the sunset was beautiful,' she explained, rather lamely. 'I was thinking of two things at once.'
He looked down at her for a long moment, an odd expression on his face. It was as if he were puzzled and wanted to ask her a question yet was unable to find a suitable way of phrasing it. After a second or two he turned abruptly and strode away, leaving her to close the car door on her side and make her way to the patio, where steps led up to the balcony of her bedroom.
A few minutes later she was standing just inside Sylvia's room, watching her at the dressing-table as she smoothed cream on her face.
'Hello, darling. Have a nice stroll?'
'Yes, it was fine.' Jenny entered, closing the door behind her. 'Daros gave me a lift back. I hadn't realised I'd walked so far until I saw how long we were in the car.'
'Daros gave you a lift?' Sylvia swivelled around on the stool and stared. 'Did he talk to you? And if so, what did he talk about?'
'He told me of your-er-mishap in the sea.' Jenny took another couple of steps into the room.
'He did?' Sylvia grinned and added, 'I expect he would tell you of it.'
'Was it very bad?' Jenny attempted to sound casual but very much doubted if she had kept the sceptical note from her voice.
'Terrible, darling! I thought I was drowning-really and truly. What a miracle that Daros should be there, ready to rescue me! How strong he is, Jenny; you have no idea! I felt so helpless, being carried, just as if I were a baby! And I with practically nothing on. I never felt so embarrassed in my life!'
'You didn't?' Jenny's eyebrows lifted a fraction. 'You sound, Sylvia, as if you enjoyed the experience immensely.'
Sylvia's lovely mouth quivered. 'You don't believe that I was in difficulties. Oh, how horrid of you-'
'Come off it,' broke in Jenny, uncaring if she made her stepmother cry. 'You're a strong swimmer and that sea was as smooth as glass!'
A small silence followed; Sylvia reached out and snapped on another light, this in addition to the two already on, one on each side of the dressing-table mirror. 'Just what are you accusing me of?' Sylvia lifted her eyes to stare directly into Jenny's, her own eyes unbelieving that Jenny should confront her this way.
'I wouldn't put it past you to transfer your affections from father to son,' answered Jenny bluntly. 'You've already said that Daros attracts you.'
'He does, too!' Sylvia's eyes sparkled, then settled down to a dreamy gaze. 'You must admit, Jen, that he's got sex appeal-and then some!'
'He's as cold as stone!'
'Depends on how you treat him. As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to think we shall get along rather well together.'
'Surely you know his opinion of you-of us, I suppose I should say?'
'He thinks we're gold-diggers, you mean? Not anymore-'
'Then he's changed very suddenly. He actually mentioned the expression not half an hour ago, in the car.'
'Accusing me? How uncharitable of him. But he doesn't really hate me, Jenny. I can see that he's going to be putty in my hands.'
'You're optimistic!' retorted Jenny disparagingly. She sat down on the bed, staring out at the last of the sunset, marvelling at the changing colours-the glowing copper-orange and flame, the bronze and saffron and lilac and deep purple. There was even green in the sky, mingling with the filmy threads of rose and palest pink. Stars had appeared to pierce the greys and duns to the east, and the trace of a crescent moon could just be discerned, struggling to bring its argent shape into the swiftly darkening sky. It won at last, as the fiery hues began to die in the west. And soon all the magic of an eastern night would settle over the island and all nature would sleep.
'I've never failed yet, my pet,' Sylvia was saying. 'Just you watch me make Daros fall in love with me!'
'I thought,' said Jenny tersely, 'that you hoped to be a widow very soon. Daros will probably outlive you.'
'I'd not want to be a widow if I married Daros,' she disclosed, reaching out an elegant hand to take up the jar of face cream again.
