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perfunctory, as he said lightly:
    ‘When I come back I'll crown you with my victor’s laurels.’
    It was another grey day, and Frances watched his car disappear into the grey murk with a sense of foreboding. Suppose Silver Arrow did not win, suppose . . . no, she must not think of that. But there was another possibility—suppose among the bevy of American fans, all more sophisticated and smarter than herself, he came to regret his hasty marriage? There would be wealthy women who could help Crawfords financially, which she could not, and divorce was easy. Her hold over Gray was so slight, it could be broken without much difficulty or even regret on his part. He was the love of her life, but to him she was only another woman with whom for expediency’s sake he had forged a bond, that had no great binding force.
    The mist began to roll up the mountainsides that guarded the entrance to Glencoe, the Glen of Weeping, as it was called. The sun broke through the mist, a happy augury, surely. But Frances could not wholly free herself from her depression, the conviction that for one reason or another she had looked her last upon Graham Crawford. I’m being morbid, she told herself; it's this place, I’ll be better when I get back to Craig Dhu.
    A car pulled up in front of the inn, and the driver got out, enquiring for Mrs Grey, which was the name under which Gray had registered. With a start she realised he meant herself and went to collect her case.
    In the car she surreptitiously slipped off her wedding ring. She was Miss Desmond again until Gray came back to claim her.
     

CHAPTER SIX
    Though Gray was supposed to be away for only a fortnight, the Fergusons did not expect him back at the end of that time. His movements were always erratic, and he might decide to go off somewhere else, though in view of his father’s illness he should return unless Mr Crawford made a complete recovery. Only Frances knew he had another reason for coming back promptly, and she was confident he would not let her down; moreover, he had promised that this was to be his last fling, before he settled in to the company routine.
    It was not until Frances was back at Craig Dhu that she remembered they had made no arrangement about telephoning or correspondence. A letter would probably arrive about the time Gray would, but she was sure he would ring her, and she hoped he would remember to use her maiden name if alternatively he wired her. She desperately longed for some message from him, though she feared he might not understand her need. The three days on Rannoch Moor had a dreamlike quality, and as she slipped back into her normal duties, it was difficult to credit that they had actually occurred. Only at night when her newly awakened senses craved for him, she knew they most definitely had, for he had broken through her virginal inhibitions and left her a yearning wife. She was restless and apprehensive, her consolation being that each unhappy night brought their reunion a day nearer.
    Gray had been entered for other offshore events, but the Miami-Nassau race from the U.S. to the Bahamas was the important one. If he were among the first six finishers, he would be eligible for a world championship as ruled by the Union of International Motorboat Racing, for he had already achieved the necessary number of points in two other international events as laid down as compulsory by it. That was his ambition to win before he retired. Lesley scoffed at the idea of his intended retirement, of which he had made no secret.
    ‘It’s in his blood,’ she declared, ‘He’ll never give up unless he becomes crippled or is beaten hollow, and that he’ll never be.’
    Frances was much afraid she might be right.
    She was kept too busy during the day to have much time for brooding. The twins, Jo and Jac, abbreviations of their baptismal names of Josephine and Jacqueline, which they detested, made a lot more work, particularly in the preparation of meals. They were