of long use, Stephen brought the launch to the hotel steps, and sprang out to assist Mrs. Stuyvesant ashore. And then, as they were all thanking him for a most enjoyable trip, a girl appeared in the doorway at the back of the terrace and called his name.
“Stephen, you wretch! You might have been here to welcome us!” she exclaimed laughingly, coming forward with both hands outstretched.
She was about the same age as Angela, and rather tall. It was evident that she must have been a passenger on the Caronia as, unlike air travellers from Europe, her olive skin was already deeply tanned. Indeed, with her tawny complexion, curly dark hair and sparkling brown eyes, she looked like a pretty gypsy—an impression heightened by her hibiscus red dress and the gold coin ear-rings jangling at her ears.
“Hello, Val. It’s nice to see you again. Did you have a good trip?” Stephen asked, taking her hands in his.
“Marvellous, thanks—but this is the part I’ve been really looking forward to. I hope you aren’t too busy to show me around a bit.” Her red lips parted in a provocative smile that showed off her beautiful teeth.
“I shouldn’t think so.” Stephen turned back to the others. “Let me introduce you to some of your fellow guests. This is Miss Valerie Langdon-Owen, Mrs. Stuyvesant.”
The Stuyvesants gave her the usual cordial American welcome, but although the girl acknowledged them all quite pleasantly, she at once turned back to Stephen and said, “Do come up and say hello to Mother and Daddy.”
He glanced at his watch. “All right.” Then, to the others, “Excuse me, will you?”
It was then that Sara happened to glance at her sister, and what she saw both startled and bewildered her. For Angela was unnaturally pale, and she was staring after Valerie Langdon-Owen with naked hatred in her eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I THINK I’ll go up and take a shower, honey,” Mrs. Stuyvesant said to her son. “I feel kind of sandy.”
“Yes, I could do with one, too,” Angela agreed quickly. “We’ll see you later. Coming, Sara?”
As soon as they reached their room and Sara had locked the door, Angela hurled her beach-bag on to the bed and flung herself into a chair.
“If this isn’t my luck!” she exclaimed violently. “Everything was going beautifully, but now that that snooty little cat has turned up we might as well go straight home.”
“You know her? She didn’t seem to know you,” Sara said, mystified.
“I’ll say I know her,” Angela answered tersely. “And as soon as she takes her eyes off Stephen Rand for half a second, she’s sure to recognize me. If she didn’t just now, it was only because she’d never expect to find a salesgirl in these surroundings.”
“Who is she?”
Angela lit a cigarette. At one time she had smoked only after meals or during the evening, but ever since the drastic change in their lives her consumption had grown heavier. In the past two days she had been almost chain-smoking, and this sudden nervous addiction to the habit made Sara suspect that, for all her outward confidence, her sister was secretly edgy.
“She and her ghastly mother were two of our worst customers at the store,” she explained. “They ran quite a good account, but they were always such a damned nuisance that it was hardly worth the commission to get through a session with them. Even the buyer groaned when she saw them coming. Of all the people I’d least want to meet here, they top the poll!”
“Well, we needn’t have much to do with them just because they’re staying here,” Sara suggested encouragingly. “Apart from the Stuyvesants, we’ve hardly spoken to anyone.”
“You don’t know Mrs. Langdon-Owen,” Angela said bitterly. “Once they realize who I am, they’ll take a malicious pleasure in spreading it round the hotel.”
“What is there to spread? The fact that you worked in a shop? That’s nothing to be ashamed about. Why, lots of girls like Miss
“Stephen, you wretch! You might have been here to welcome us!” she exclaimed laughingly, coming forward with both hands outstretched.
She was about the same age as Angela, and rather tall. It was evident that she must have been a passenger on the Caronia as, unlike air travellers from Europe, her olive skin was already deeply tanned. Indeed, with her tawny complexion, curly dark hair and sparkling brown eyes, she looked like a pretty gypsy—an impression heightened by her hibiscus red dress and the gold coin ear-rings jangling at her ears.
“Hello, Val. It’s nice to see you again. Did you have a good trip?” Stephen asked, taking her hands in his.
“Marvellous, thanks—but this is the part I’ve been really looking forward to. I hope you aren’t too busy to show me around a bit.” Her red lips parted in a provocative smile that showed off her beautiful teeth.
“I shouldn’t think so.” Stephen turned back to the others. “Let me introduce you to some of your fellow guests. This is Miss Valerie Langdon-Owen, Mrs. Stuyvesant.”
The Stuyvesants gave her the usual cordial American welcome, but although the girl acknowledged them all quite pleasantly, she at once turned back to Stephen and said, “Do come up and say hello to Mother and Daddy.”
He glanced at his watch. “All right.” Then, to the others, “Excuse me, will you?”
It was then that Sara happened to glance at her sister, and what she saw both startled and bewildered her. For Angela was unnaturally pale, and she was staring after Valerie Langdon-Owen with naked hatred in her eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I THINK I’ll go up and take a shower, honey,” Mrs. Stuyvesant said to her son. “I feel kind of sandy.”
“Yes, I could do with one, too,” Angela agreed quickly. “We’ll see you later. Coming, Sara?”
As soon as they reached their room and Sara had locked the door, Angela hurled her beach-bag on to the bed and flung herself into a chair.
“If this isn’t my luck!” she exclaimed violently. “Everything was going beautifully, but now that that snooty little cat has turned up we might as well go straight home.”
“You know her? She didn’t seem to know you,” Sara said, mystified.
“I’ll say I know her,” Angela answered tersely. “And as soon as she takes her eyes off Stephen Rand for half a second, she’s sure to recognize me. If she didn’t just now, it was only because she’d never expect to find a salesgirl in these surroundings.”
“Who is she?”
Angela lit a cigarette. At one time she had smoked only after meals or during the evening, but ever since the drastic change in their lives her consumption had grown heavier. In the past two days she had been almost chain-smoking, and this sudden nervous addiction to the habit made Sara suspect that, for all her outward confidence, her sister was secretly edgy.
“She and her ghastly mother were two of our worst customers at the store,” she explained. “They ran quite a good account, but they were always such a damned nuisance that it was hardly worth the commission to get through a session with them. Even the buyer groaned when she saw them coming. Of all the people I’d least want to meet here, they top the poll!”
“Well, we needn’t have much to do with them just because they’re staying here,” Sara suggested encouragingly. “Apart from the Stuyvesants, we’ve hardly spoken to anyone.”
“You don’t know Mrs. Langdon-Owen,” Angela said bitterly. “Once they realize who I am, they’ll take a malicious pleasure in spreading it round the hotel.”
“What is there to spread? The fact that you worked in a shop? That’s nothing to be ashamed about. Why, lots of girls like Miss
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