'I most certainly did not enjoy that-interlude, as you call it!'

'You little liar,' he accused softly, and he watched her colour increase, this time with discomfiture rather than actual shame. His lynx-like gaze held an expression of amus.e.m.e.nt as he added, still in that same soft tone of voice, 'You enjoyed it so much, my dear, that you'd have raised no objection if I'd decided to go a little further '

'Oh!' She gritted her teeth, glowering up at him. 'What a detestable thing to say to me! And what an inflated opinion you have of yourself!' Tears of anger and mortification welled up behind her eyes, but her dominant emotion was one of bewilderment at her own action in allowing Carl to make love to her in that pa.s.sionate, intimate way. She could have resisted, she told herself... but obviously she had not wanted to resist. 'You sp-speak to m-me as if I'm the kind of girl who would-would----' A choking sob checked the last words; she turned abruptly from him as the tears rolled down her face. 'I'm going to my room-g-good- night!' And on that she sped along the path towards the steps leading to her bedroom. She heard Carl asking if she still wanted the tablets, but made no answer, and it was only when she had undressed and got into bed that she realised just how intensely painful her headache was.

The following morning she awoke to the sunlight streaming into the room and realised that she had not bothered to close the curtains the night before. Her head still ached and she wondered how she could have slept as soundly as she had. However, what really amazed her was that she had slept at all after what had taken place down there in the garden. How was she to face Carl this morning? The idea so appalled her that she would have crept surrept.i.tiously from his home had that been at all possible.

By the time she had bathed and dressed she had collected herself sufficiently to be able to accept what was facing her with a certain amount of equilibrium. It was not the first unpleasant situation in which she had found herself and she did not suppose it would be the last.

She looked at herself in the mirror after combing her hair and applying the blusher and lip-rouge to her face as she had last night. Irma, despite her natural beauty, had always maintained that make-up gave a woman confidence, and this did appear to be a fact in this present situation, as Sara, when at last she was on her way to the breakfast-room, discovered to her astonishment that she had actually managed to a.s.sume an air of confidence which she hoped would remain with her, at least for the next half hour or so.

Carl was already there, looking immaculate even though he wore corduroys which were by no means new, and a checked shirt of several shades of blue from dark to pastel. His lazy amber eyes were without the amused satire she had expected to see in them; the fine lines of his mouth were unsmiling as he bade her good morning.

'Good morning, Mr van der Linden.' She moved to the chair he indicated, sat down unhurriedly and remarked on the weather. Carl sat down opposite to her, answered gravely, agreeing with her that it was a beautiful morning after the storm. And then he said, his eyes flicking over her face in a swift but examining glance, 'I trust you slept well, Miss Morgan?'

She nodded.

'Very well, thank you.'

Anna entered with bacon and eggs which she placed, in their silver dish, in the centre of the table.

Sara finished her grapefruit; Carl finished his and took the two gla.s.ses over to the sideboard.

'Can I serve you with bacon and eggs?' he inquired politely.

'Yes, please-er-not too much.' It was the strangest thing, but this att.i.tude he was adopting disconcerted her far more than one of sardonic amus.e.m.e.nt-perhaps because she was far more used to seeing him in what she herself described as a disagreeable mood. This suave and polite manner seemed to be over-exaggerated and she wondered if, beneath it all, he was in fact amused. The idea gained strength as the meal progressed, with the result that the air of superb confidence which had clothed her like a protective mantle was beginning to fall away and she was becoming vulnerable to any change of demeanour which Carl might decide to display. She was suddenly filled with embarra.s.sment; the whole disgraceful scene came back to her-Carl's mastery and her own lack of resistance to it; she looked at his face across the table and wondered if he were regarding her with deeper contempt now than ever before. If he knew she was in love with Ray- and she was very sure that he did know-then it was inevitable that he should be thoroughly despising her for her conduct last night. In love with one man but not averse to allowing another to make love to her! It was disgusting, and she had to admit that Carl had every reason for despising her.

'You're not eating, Miss Morgan.' Carl's voice drifted to her; she shook her head, wondering if the colour really had risen in her cheeks, or whether she just imagined that her self-disgust was making her blush.

'I'm not hungry. I'm sorry I let you help me to the eggs and bacon.'

He looked at her, subjecting her to that kind of searching scrutiny that made her avert her head, hiding her expression from that shrewd and piercing regard.

'Is there anything else that might tempt you?' He seemed concerned, she thought-but then she was his guest, and so he would naturally want her to have some breakfast.

'No, thank you,' she answered in a low tone. 'I'm not in the least hungry.'

'More coffee?'

'No, thank you.' The position was becoming more and more embarra.s.sing for her, and she toyed with the idea of making some excuse to leave him. But nothing feasible came to mind and after a few awkward moments she said, haltingly, 'I will have some-some more coffee-if you don't mind... ?'

Carl poured it for her, then pushed the sugar box towards her. He hesitated for a moment before saying, in a voice devoid of expression, 'There really is no reason, Miss Morgan, for feeling tie way you do. Have some breakfast; you'll feel much better when you've eaten something.'

'I couldn't eat.' The tears were close; she had no idea just how unhappy she looked, or how ashamed. She could not guess that Carl might be feeling a little bit sorry for her, even though his contempt was as strong as ever.

'You know,' he said after a pause, 'with an incident like the one that occurred last night, there's apt to be an awkwardness of the kind which you're obviously experiencing. I a.s.sure you there's no need for this embarra.s.sment, Miss Morgan. I've forgotten the incident, and I advise you to do the same.'

'Forget it? You're asking me to forget it!' Sara felt the tears stinging her eyes and strove to hold them hack. 'I shall never forget it-never!'

'You're still blaming me?'

She shook her head almost instantly.

'No-myself--- ' Her lips twisted into a strained expression. 'I'm not-not used to all that wine, you see.' Her voice quivered as she added, 'I should have refused it; I don't know what made me drink so much.' She was brooding on it and Carl, frowning as if angry with himself, said rather kindly, 'You worry too much, Miss Morgan. Come on, eat something-just a little toast and marmalade. I'm afraid I shan't be able to keep you company this morning as I have some work to do in my study. However, I'm sure you'll find amus.e.m.e.nt for an hour or two with my books. Irma was telling me you used to read a great deal at one time; I have a library which I shall show you in a few minutes. Browse as much as you like, and if there's anything you want to borrow then don't hesitate to tell me.' His manner was friendly but casual; he picked up the toast rack with a languid gesture and held it out to her. The effect of the way he was adopting with her acted like magic on her wrenched nerves, settling them immediately. Her tears, too, seemed to evaporate, her hand was surprisingly steady as, automatically, she reached forward to help herself to toast. She even managed a fluttering smile as she thanked him. He watched her for a s.p.a.ce as she b.u.t.tered her toast, then suggested that, when she had become tired of her own company in the library, she could go into the garden where, if she liked, she could talk to Masara, one of his gardeners, who would tell her the names of the flowers and trees.

'You know I'm interested in flowers and trees?' she asked in surprise.

'Irma told me that you've been trying to establish a garden at Njangola. As you've come from England I've taken it for granted that a good number of our plants here are unknown to you. If you take a look around my garden you'll be able to choose which plants you want to buy.'

'Thank you.' She fell silent, marvelling that Carl had been able so adroitly to dispel her embarra.s.sment. Last night might never have happened, she thought. 'It's quite true that I've been trying to grow some flowers at Njangola, but it's difficult because Ray hasn't yet decided which ground he's intending to use for the vegetables and other produce for the house.' She could have added that she'd had little or no time for gardening, but she refrained. 'I'd very much like to lake a look at your gardens. Ray's told me how beautiful they are.' She would look at the gardens before going into the library, she decided, for although the sun was shining in a clear sky, it might just start to rain again.

'Usually they're attractive, but you certainly won't be seeing them at their best today, not after the battering they received yesterday. However, with the larger plants, and especially the trees, it's surprising how soon they recover. The sun's been up for three hours already and you'll find that, although as I said the garden won't be at its best, many of the flowers will have dried off.'

Soon afterwards she was outside, gasping in wonderment at the sheer beauty of Carl's gardens. As he had predicted, the flowers on the larger trees had dried off. Masara, delighted at the idea of taking Sara round, spoke almost lovingly about some of the. trees. He told her that the beautiful flamboyant tree on the edge of 1 he lawn was also known as the flame of the forest and the royal poinciana. It was in bloom now, a huge scarlet umbrella with dense cl.u.s.ters of brilliant red petals-but one petal in each bloom was white. The jacaranda was also in bloom, but its pretty bell-like flowers had already begun to fall, forming a blue carpet beneath it.

Masara moved on, leading the way; he named the flowers in the borders-the heliconias and allamandas, the pa.s.sion flowers, the chenille plants and numerous others, all contributing either colour in incredible bursts all over the border, or lovely foliage to enhance the picture still further.

At last Sara left the garden and went along to the library, where she spent' a couple of hours, which brought her to lunch time. Carl came into the library, and stood by the door, tall, immobile, and too attractive by far.

'Well, have you enjoyed your morning? I'm sorry I couldn't be with you, but I saw that Masara was doing very well as your guide.' Cool tones and polished. He was a very different man from the one he had been last night, and it seemed impossible that he had shown so much feeling, so much ardour. This man before her now, impersonal and with a mask-like expression, was as unapproachable as he had ever been, his amber eyes were as indifferent in their gaze, the thin mouth unsmiling, the jawline implacable.

'I've enjoyed it very much indeed, thank you.' Sara adopted her old manner of coolness, in order to match his. They were back to where they had begun, it seemed; she felt that last night would never be mentioned again by either of them. And, strangely, she was scarcely embarra.s.sed about it now. She knew instinctively that Carl would never even think of it again, which meant that he would never remind her of it even by a look. 'Shall I be able to go home immediately after lunch?'

He nodded casually.

'The sun's rather hotter than is usual at this time of the year, so the road might just have dried sufficiently for me to take the Land-rover over it without too much difficulty.'

'I do thank you, Mr van der Linden,' she said sincerely. 'I'm very grateful indeed to you.'

'There's no need to be,' he returned, rather abruptly, she thought. 'You were stranded and you came to me for help. My action in a.s.sisting was as natural as yours in approaching me. I'd have done it for anyone-just as you yourself would.'

She nodded, feeling snubbed, and inexplicably depressed because of it. Carl van der Linden had done something to her during these hours she had been with him-and she felt she would never be quite the same girl as she was this time yesterday.

The following Sat.u.r.day Sara dressed for the club dance with rather more care than usual. The reason for this hovered at the back of her mind but was determinedly kept there. It had been a tiring day and one that had left her feeling exceptionally low in spirits. Irma had had one of her fault-finding moods; Sara's patience had been tried to its utmost but had not quite reached the state of exhaustion. Ray's patience on the other hand had snapped very soon, and the result was the first actual quarrel that had taken place between him and his wife. It left Irma weeping distractedly, Ray feeling so guilty that he had taken himself off somewhere, leaving work which was vitally important, and as for Sara, she scarcely knew how she kept her own tears from flowing as she tried to comfort her sister. Irma had repeatedly said that she wanted to die; she had spoken wildly about the accident, blaming Ray because, she declared, he ought to have known the runabout was not in a roadworthy condition. And then she had said, breaking away from Sara's comforting arms, 'I'll bet if it had been you who was going out in it he'd have tested it first!'

Sara had said nothing, but the words had gone deep, another stabbing reminder of her own position. For one angry moment she had almost decided to pack her things and leave, but Irma was already apologising -or trying to-for her sobs were racking her whole body, rising from the very depths of her, preventing anything like intelligible speech.

Ray had returned at last, and gone in to his wife's room. A quarter of an hour later, looking haggard and weighted down with worry, he had told Sara that the quarrel was made up. It had been his turn to have a night out, but he said, a sigh on his lips, 'I'll stay with Irma tonight, naturally. You get yourself dressed up and go to the Club.'

She had hesitated, but not for long. She needed to get out of the house, and in any case Irma would not want her, not when her husband was willing to spend the evening with her.

Sara had asked Ray to have his evening meal with Irma and he had agreed. Sara had put an especial effort into the cooking, and the setting of the two trays. She had the gratification of seeing Irma smile, of hearing her say, 'This looks delicious. You're so clever with making things look pretty---- ' she had fingered the tiny flower arrangement which Sara had put on her tray. 'A little garden in an eggcup! I wish I could keep it as a souvenir.'.

After dining alone Sara had gone to her room to take a bath and get dressed, leaving Sadie and Makau, the houseboy, to clear away the dinner things; The warm water was soothing both to body and mind, but Sara was naturally in a state of deep dejection, telling herself one moment that she would have to leave Njangola, but the next moment the picture of Irma was there, Irma who needed her desperately.

Ray had thoughtfully brought the ranch wagon to the front of the house for her, and he stood there while she got in and pressed the starter.

'It's amazing that it didn't take any harm,' she said as the engine caught right away. 'It really was buried when we looked at it on our way here.'

'I've an idea that Carl, after he'd got his boys to haul it out of the mud, got one of them to give it a going over. He told me he has one boy who loves to tinker with anything mechanical.' Ray stepped back as Sara prepared to move. 'Have a nice time. I wish I were----- '

He stopped abruptly, lifted a hand, then walked slowly into the house.'

'I wish I were coming with yo...' That was what Ray had been going to say. He did not really want to be with his wife, then? And after that dreadful quarrel which had left Irma so achingly distracted that she had wanted to die.

The ranch wagon moved away from the house towards the path which had caused Sara so much trouble only a few days previously. Once away from it, and on the main road, Sara forced herself to forget what she had left behind and to look forward to an evening's relaxation at the Club. It would be time enough to shoulder her burdens again tomorrow morning, when another unpredictable day would begin. Often after one of her unhappy moods Irma would be a little brighter, as if she really were making some effort to accept her situation, so perhaps tomorrow would be a lot more comfortable than today had been.

When eventually Sara turned into the Club grounds she had successfully cast aside her problems, and as she entered the lounge she was able to greet the people she knew with a smile. She had previously met Greta and Hal Drake, both of whom were artists, and who lived in one of the attractive bungalows situated on the outskirts of the town. They came up to Sara now and invited her to join them for a drink. They were soon joined by a young man Sara had met previously, Bernard Kirkby who was single and living with his sister and her husband, helping them on their farm for part of the time and being employed by Carl at the weekends. He had confided to Sara that he was working hard to save enough for a holding of his own, hence the long hours he so willingly put in.

'h.e.l.lo, Sara! It's nice to see you!'

'And nice to see you,' she returned spontaneously, looking with undisguised pleasure into his plump, good-humoured face.

'Would you consider me rude, I wonder, if I remarked on your dress? It's absolutely smashing! You look sixteen in it!'

Sara flushed slightly, but grimaced as well. Greta tilted her head sideways as if to be considering the statement just made by Bernard.

'Sixteen, eh ? Well, you might well be right.'

'I'm quite sure he isn't right,' from Sara with emphasis. Nevertheless, she knew the dress, with its attractive colour of midnight blue, its long full skirt and high neck trimmed with narrow white lace, did make her look younger than she was. Both Ray and Irma had told her this. 'In any case,' added Sara, 'I don't want to look sixteen.'

'The age of no real problems,' murmured Greta on a dreamy, nostalgic note.

So true, agreed Sara to herself. She glanced around, looking for Carl. He had not yet arrived-unless he was in the other room, dancing already. Some people would be dancing, she realised, for the music was playing.

After a while Bernard asked Sara to get up with him.

The next dance she had was with Hal, and the next with Bernard again. Carl had still not arrived.

At half-past ten Sara announced her intention of going home. Bernard, looking disappointed, tried to persuade her to stay a little while longer but she shook her head.

'I'm tired,' she told him... but to herself she had to admit that the evening had been flat almost from the start.

Carl van der Linden, the man she did not like very much at all, had not put in an appearance...

CHAPTER FIVE.

I was saying, a week or so ago, that you needed some sort of a break.' Ray had joined Sara in the garden, where she was cutting flowers for her sister's room. 'Will you promise me you'll think about it?'

'Why, Ray? I said I wasn't tired.'

'I'm so terribly afraid you'll leave here.'

. She shook her head.

'Not until Irma tells me to go,' she promised.

'Not until---- ?' Ray looked at her in surprise. 'You sound as if you're half expecting Irma to tell you to go.'

Sara turned away, intending to stoop and cut another rose. But Ray unexpectedly reached out and brought her round to face him.

'Ray, what---- ?'

'She's been saying something to you. I demand to know what it is!'

She quivered beneath his touch, casting down her eyes swiftly lest he should read the secret of her heart.

'She gets morbid at times, as you know. I don't take any notice-at least, not much notice,' she amended, managing to free herself from Ray's grasp. He said nothing for a moment and Sara began cutting the flowers again and dropping them gently into the basket she carried over her arm.

'What does she talk about during these morbid spells?' asked Ray at length.

'Oh-er---- '

'The truth, Sara!' Ray's voice was almost threatening; Sara was seeing a new side of him altogether.

'She becomes upset about you and herself, getting the stupid idea that you'll eventually stop loving her.' There, it was out, forced from her against her will, but perhaps it was as well. Ray might give Irma a little more of his time from now on.

He moved silently away, to stand with his back to a tree, regarding Sara with a strange expression on his handsome face.

'You consider it a stupid idea, then?' he said softly at last.

'That you might fall out of love with her? Yes, of course I do I' Her tones were vehement; she was under no illusions as to why this was. She was trying to convince herself, not Ray.

'I did say to you that love couldn't last,' he began, when Sara, frightened and angry, interrupted him.

'You asked me how long love could last,' she corrected.

'Well, we'll not split hairs about that,' he returned casually. 'Irma's changed since the accident. She's become a termagant, a female whose only pleasure in life is in voicing complaints. Is she ever grateful for anything either you or I do for her?'

'She has so much to bear,' Sara reminded him, her memory jarred by that quarrel which had taken place between Irma and Ray, a quarrel which, declared Irma, had caused a rift that would never be closed. 'You should be kinder to her, Ray.' Sara's voice was gentle, persuasive. There was pain in her eyes because of the bitterness in his. It seemed of vital importance that he should be brought out of his present state of mind. That he was still in love with his wife she did not doubt, but she also sensed that his love was weakening. And if it died altogether, what then? While his love still remained there were no major complications, since he had no idea that Sara was in love with him. But, should he come to lose the love he had for his wife he might then turn his attention to Sara, in which case complications were bound to result for, strong as she was, Sara had no illusions that, should Ray come to love her, she could resist a confession of her own love for him.

That was as far as it would go-but Sara was determined to do all in her power not to allow even this to occur. Irma needed her husband's love more than anything else at this time, needed it desperately because of her doubts, the doubts she had voiced to Sara. She was living with those doubts, so obviously needed rea.s.suring the whole time. After Ray's love she needed that of her sister, and Sara was prepared to give her whole life, if need be, for Irma.

'She has a great deal to bear, granted,' Ray was saying. 'But surely she could, just now and then, express a word of grat.i.tude?'

'I don't care for grat.i.tude being extended to me, Ray. I do what I do for Irma because I love her and, secondly, because I feel it's my duty to care for her.'

'So you won't run out on me?'

'On you?' she frowned. 'I shan't run out on Irma, if that's what you really meant to say.'

'This break,' he said, resorting to his previous query. 'Are you prepared to take one? There are trips to the coast which can be booked in Paulsville-sort of package deals, they are. I saw them advertised the other day when I drove in for those fertilisers I was telling you about.'