Chapter SixSheena awoke very early and got up before the children were awake so that she might be able to write her letter to Uncle Patrick in peace.
She had felt she could not attempt it yesterday when her brain was so bemused with all that had happened that it was almost impossible to think straight or to set her thoughts in order.
Now, as the pale sun came flooding over the rooftops, she opened her window wide and felt the spring air invigorate her as though it was a glass of wine.
There was, she decided, something special in the air of Paris, something that she had never known before and something that made her feel young and gay and impetuous so that even the dark cloud of worry over her uncle or the difficulties of keeping up her own masquerade seemed not to matter so much as they
