surprised to find that it covered only a few hundred square yards and seemed largely made up of hotels and restaurants, interspersed with a pretty square in front of the Casino and a charming little market. But half-way through the morning their sight-seeing was cut short by Aunt Ellie, complaining of a headache and Dominic ordered the driver to take them to the Sporting Club.
"You'll be able to lie down there, Aunt. The manager's an old friend of mine and he'll look after you." He spoke with resignation, almost as if he had been prepared for this emergency and had already decided what to do if his aunt showed signs of fatigue.
"I'm so sorry to be a nuisance," the old woman apologized faintly. "I haven't had one of my headaches since you've been with me, Barbara, but they can be rather frightening although they don't last very long as a rule."
Indeed she was already looking pale and drawn, and Rockwood cast several glances in her direction as they drove along—the first time Barbara had seen him show any solicitude for his aunt.
Arriving at the Sporting Club they were met by a dapper and voluble Frenchman who greeted Rockwood effusively.
"Ah, m'sieur, what a long time it is since you were here! But how good to see old friends! At the moment it is new faces, new faces all the time." He shrugged. "Mais que voulez-vous, they have the money!"
Quickly Rockwood explained that his aunt was unwell, and within a few minutes they were shown up to a luxurious bedroom. Barbara pulled the curtains to shut out the glare and settled the old woman in bed, perturbed to see that she was shaking in every limb and there was a waxy pallor and sunken look about the closed eyes.
"I'm so sorry to spoil your day, my dear," she murmured, "but it you'll just stay with me until I fall asleep . . ."
'I won't leave you." Barbara patted the wrinkled hand on the coverlet.
"I'll be downstairs when you're ready." There was such harshness in Rockwood's voice that Barbara glanced at him, surprised to sec he was almost as pale as his aunt. "I'll be waiting in the lounge. My aunt usually gets off in about half an hour and once she's asleep there's no point in your slaying up here."
"That's right," Aunt Ellie whispered. "When I wake I'll be as right as rain. You'll see."
Rockwood went out, leaving the two women alone, and Barbara sat down in an armchair near the window.
Slowly Aunt Ellie's breathing became less shallow and from fitful dozing she fell into a deep sleep, but Barbara waited until she was quite certain the old woman would not awaken before she tip-toed gently out of the room and went downstairs.
Rockwood was sitting idly in an armchair and came towards her as she was looking around for him.
"Come along, I'm sure you could do with a cool drink before we go in to lunch."
She glanced down at her watch. "Good heavens, it's nearly two o'clock! Will we be able to get anything to eat so late?"
"Mealtimes are pretty elastic in the South of France —luncheon from twelve to three and dinner anywhere from seven to ten."
They lunched on the terrace overlooking the sea, the table-cloth flapping in the breeze and the shouts of the swimmers cutting across their conversation.
Barbara sipped the wine Rockwood had ordered and looked out on the vivid scene. "What a pity Aunt Ellie isn't here to enjoy this."
His face darkened. "It's a pity she ever came ashore in the first place. I was afraid this would happen. I know you've wondered why I haven't allowed her to see any of the places we've called at—you've probably thought it was part of my usual behaviour towards her." She reddened at the truth of his assertion. "Well, now perhaps you understand. Do you think I like being autocratic, that I like keeping her quiet and not allowing her to do things I know she'd enjoy as much as a child?" He ran a hand across his hair and a strand fell forward, redder and more burnished than the rest. "Sometimes I wonder why I take her abroad at all. I know she'd be
"You'll be able to lie down there, Aunt. The manager's an old friend of mine and he'll look after you." He spoke with resignation, almost as if he had been prepared for this emergency and had already decided what to do if his aunt showed signs of fatigue.
"I'm so sorry to be a nuisance," the old woman apologized faintly. "I haven't had one of my headaches since you've been with me, Barbara, but they can be rather frightening although they don't last very long as a rule."
Indeed she was already looking pale and drawn, and Rockwood cast several glances in her direction as they drove along—the first time Barbara had seen him show any solicitude for his aunt.
Arriving at the Sporting Club they were met by a dapper and voluble Frenchman who greeted Rockwood effusively.
"Ah, m'sieur, what a long time it is since you were here! But how good to see old friends! At the moment it is new faces, new faces all the time." He shrugged. "Mais que voulez-vous, they have the money!"
Quickly Rockwood explained that his aunt was unwell, and within a few minutes they were shown up to a luxurious bedroom. Barbara pulled the curtains to shut out the glare and settled the old woman in bed, perturbed to see that she was shaking in every limb and there was a waxy pallor and sunken look about the closed eyes.
"I'm so sorry to spoil your day, my dear," she murmured, "but it you'll just stay with me until I fall asleep . . ."
'I won't leave you." Barbara patted the wrinkled hand on the coverlet.
"I'll be downstairs when you're ready." There was such harshness in Rockwood's voice that Barbara glanced at him, surprised to sec he was almost as pale as his aunt. "I'll be waiting in the lounge. My aunt usually gets off in about half an hour and once she's asleep there's no point in your slaying up here."
"That's right," Aunt Ellie whispered. "When I wake I'll be as right as rain. You'll see."
Rockwood went out, leaving the two women alone, and Barbara sat down in an armchair near the window.
Slowly Aunt Ellie's breathing became less shallow and from fitful dozing she fell into a deep sleep, but Barbara waited until she was quite certain the old woman would not awaken before she tip-toed gently out of the room and went downstairs.
Rockwood was sitting idly in an armchair and came towards her as she was looking around for him.
"Come along, I'm sure you could do with a cool drink before we go in to lunch."
She glanced down at her watch. "Good heavens, it's nearly two o'clock! Will we be able to get anything to eat so late?"
"Mealtimes are pretty elastic in the South of France —luncheon from twelve to three and dinner anywhere from seven to ten."
They lunched on the terrace overlooking the sea, the table-cloth flapping in the breeze and the shouts of the swimmers cutting across their conversation.
Barbara sipped the wine Rockwood had ordered and looked out on the vivid scene. "What a pity Aunt Ellie isn't here to enjoy this."
His face darkened. "It's a pity she ever came ashore in the first place. I was afraid this would happen. I know you've wondered why I haven't allowed her to see any of the places we've called at—you've probably thought it was part of my usual behaviour towards her." She reddened at the truth of his assertion. "Well, now perhaps you understand. Do you think I like being autocratic, that I like keeping her quiet and not allowing her to do things I know she'd enjoy as much as a child?" He ran a hand across his hair and a strand fell forward, redder and more burnished than the rest. "Sometimes I wonder why I take her abroad at all. I know she'd be
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