Cheveron, always Cheveron! When he should be thinking only of Violet, of her lips against his, of her arms entwined round his neck.
He had reached the end of a flight of steps and rounded a grey rock overhung with wisteria when he felt someone bump into him and a voice gave a startled cry. He put out his hands to save whoever it was from falling, and was aware that he held a woman in his arms.
‘Look out! Be careful' he said, and because he was taken by surprise and his thoughts were far away at Cheveron, instinctively he spoke in English. The woman gave a little gasp.
‘Pardon, Monsieur,’ she said, and then, after he had spoken, she added in English, ‘Oh, but you are English.’
‘Yes, I am English,’ Sir Robert replied. ‘Is anything the matter?’
It was difficult to see her clearly for the
