CHAPTER FOURHappy days pass far too quickly and even for memories.
Love makes an hour into a minute, a day into a moment as swift in passage as a kiss.
Fiona laughed with Jim, walked with him, watched him play golf, drove to the sea and bathed with him, they picnicked in the woods, they looked into each other’s eyes and sighed. And a week passed.
The weather was glorious. The Careys, in the knowledge of their own happiness, were perfect chaperones. There was only one cloud to shadow and frighten Fiona, the imminence of her return to London.
She heard no more of Lord Winthrop, she read of his funeral attended by a very large number of friends and that the King was represented.
Jim forbade her to think about it, in fact, he was very arbitrary about her thinking of or discussing anything
