She chose a circlet of flowers and he arranged it in her hair
They were falling in love, lingering over each moment together
RainBow Tulip
by Charles Terrot
Illustrated by Earnshaw
FIRST CHAPTERS
MIKE FOSTER and Barbara, his fifteen-year-old sister, are on a spring holiday in Amsterdam. Mike, who is a Customs Officer, is finishing his convalescence after a motor cycle accident. While he was in hospital he was jilted by his fiancee.
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Staying at their hotel is the famous and beautiful model, Linda Cartright, and her father.
Barbara and Linda become great friends and at a fashion show in the Keukenhof Park Linda introduces her to Madame Rissac, who runs a model training school in Paris. Madame Rissac consents to accept Barbara as a pupil. Barbara writes and tells this news to her guardian -the somewhat unpleasant Auntie Grace.
As neither Linda nor Mike seems particularly attracted to each other, and Barbara decides they ought to be, she conceives a plan to stimulate Mike's interest in Linda. She hints that there is something mysterious about Linda's holiday in Amsterdam and that she may even be involved in smuggling.
After the fashion show Mr. Van Loman, a Bond Street jeweller who has helped Linda a great deal in her career, gives a party. His son Eddie suggests an expedition to the rough area of Amsterdam, the Zeedijk. Barbara is left behind with a sixteen-year-old Spaniard, Rafael Montenegro, with whom she has become friendly.
They visit several night-clubs and in one Mike becomes acquainted with an underworld character, Ticker Watson. In the street outside Linda is attacked by two "roughs" and Mike, in rescuing her, becomes involved in a brawl in which he acquits himself admirably.
Back in her bedroom at the hotel Linda is attending to his slight wounds when he spots a photograph on the mantelpiece. He guesses it to be Linda's boy friend who is, unknown to Mike, a member of Interpol.
The next day Mike and Linda go to Haarlem where they hire bicycles to tour the bulb fields. Linda makes some rather unfortunate comments about Customs Officers, not knowing Mike's job. It seems as if Barbara's plan is working.
(The story now continues)
ON this fine Saturday morning in April, thousands of tourists had come to see the bulb fields, and the roads were packed with, cars, coaches and bicycles. Before long, Mike forgot his irritation at the somewhat tactless remarks which Linda had unwittingly made, and he became filled with wonder at the dazzling beauty of the scene which unfolded itself as they cycled on through the world's largest flower garden.
On either side of the cobbled roads stretched immense carpets of golden daffodils, pastel-hued hyacinths and tulips of every shade; The fields seemed to stretch to the horizon, a mosaic of unbelievable colours, from which rose a mixture of sweet scents that enhanced the atmosphere of fairy tale unreality. Mike was a little puzzled by the huge heaps of blooms dumped along the sides of the fields, obviously being left to wither and yet at present looking like piled fireworks which had been magically frozen rigid as they exploded in a riot of crimson, orange, purple and golden flames.
"What's the point of them?" he asked Linda. "It seems an awful waste to throwaway perfectly good flowers."
" It's part of the Dutch system of bulb cultivation," she explained. "Directly the blooms are full out, they are whipped off and that makes for bigger and better bulbs. In a few days time, these particular fields will be completely stripped."
PRESENTLY they came to a flower-stall with garlands made from these nipped-off blooms. They cost only about ninepence (about 9cents) each and people were buying them to hang on the bonnets of their cars, on the handlebars of their bicycles, round their necks and even on their heads.
Mike insisted on stopping, for he thought Linda would look very nice wearing a circlet of flowers. He was quite right. She chose one and let him arrange it on her silky, flaxen hair, and he was so pleased with the result that he wished he could take a photo of her.
"What a fool I was not to bring a camera!" he exclaimed.
"I've got one if you want to borrow it," she said.
"Surely not on you?" he asked, for he could see no sign of a camera.
For an answer she put her hand in the pocket of her tartan skirt and drew out an instrument which was about the size of a cigarette-lighter.
"Here you are," she said, handing it to him. "Where did you get is from ?" he exclaimed curiously, for he recognized it as an extremely rare German camera made during the war for the use of spies. Once before he had come across a similar one when searching through" a traveller's suitcase at London Airport; it subsequently transpired that it had been stolen, and the man in question was a notorious underworld character.
"Someone gave it to me," she answered. ,
"Who?"
She laughed a little crossly. "Really, Mike, is it any of your business?"
"No of course not-I'm sorry; I just wondered, as you can't even buy these things secondhand. I believe there are only about fifty in existence."
"How interesting! Well, do you want to use it ? "
"Yes-thanks," he said hastily.
As she showed him how it worked, he told himself' there was no valid reason why the fact of her possessing it should make him any more suspicious of her-it was simply that his automatic association with it was one of spying and thefts and the underworld generally.
Looking at her through the viewfinder he thought with pleasure what an attractive picture she would make-her fair head, crowned with flowers, standing out against a blue sky.
After he had taken the photo, she took one of him standing self-consciously by his bicycle with a garland of tulips round his neck. Then a complete stranger-a Dutchman who thought he had seldom seen a better-looking couple-took a photo of them both with his own camera and promised to send them colour prints. Then after exchanging addresses and a lot of hand-shaking they continued on their way.
It was nearly two o'clock when they arrived back at Haarlem, their skins aglow and their eyes bright with health. Linda said she was very thirsty, and so before choosing a place to have lunch they went into a beautiful old tavern, the interior of which had changed little in the past four hundred years. Sand was sprinkled on the floor, and on the walls were old blue tiles each depicting a different scene. The landlord was stout and cherubic-faced; with a white apron girding the immensity of his stomach, he looked like a figure from a Brueghal painting. After welcoming them as though their arrival had made his day, be brought them two long glasses of cool, golden beer.
"I MUST say I've never enjoyed the bulb fields more," declared Linda. .
"Have you seen them many times before? " Mike asked.
"Um-hm-with Daddy, but it's a very different matter going round with him. He hunts out the growers and they have long technical discussions, and I get so bored that. I find it tremendously hard to appreciate the beauty of the scene." She paused. "You know something, Mike? -I think the extent of one's appreciation of anything lovely depends an awful lot on who you are with."
Their eyes met for an instant and both knew they were falling in love. He longed to kiss her there and then, and doubtless if he had he would have given great pleasure to the quiet, benign-looking Dutch folk who were sitting about the tavern, the men smoking long clay pipes and drinking beer, the women nibbling at "sticks" of raw salted herring.
HE thought it would attract too much attention, and so he contented himself with slipping an arm round her slender waist and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Presently. the landlord returned to their table and asked them if they would like lunch. He said he could not offer anything very fancy but he would be delighted to serve them with raw fillet of steak, finely chopped and garnished with yolks of eggs, anchovies, onions and garlic. Although it sounded odd, after tasting it very cautiously, they both agreed that it was delicious.
This dish was followed by a plate of cream pastries. Taking one, Linda remarked, "I'm afraid I'm going to get a terrible frown from the weighing-machine when I next step on to it, but I really couldn't care less today."
"I suppose as a model you have to watch your weight very carefully," he said.
"Oh yes. In modelling one is only as good as one's next show. There can't be many other professions in which one can tumble down the ladder quicker. And one of the most frequent causes of disaster is overweight."
"How long "'are you going to go on modelling for? "
"I don't know-I haven't really thought. But I'll certainly give it up when I get married."
"Why?"
"Because I think a wife's job is to look after her home and husband and children. And another thing, quite possibly I'll marry a man who isn't wealthy; I think it's very bad for a wife to be earning three or four thousand (about $8430 to $11240) a year and her husband not nearly as much."
"But you'll be sorry to give it up?"
She gave a slight shrug. "I don't suppose I'll mind when the time comes. After all, there will be something much more important taking its place."
Once again, he found it almost impossible to believe that she was in the slightest way connected with a smuggling ring or any other criminal activity. Her whole outlook struck him as being so delightfully straightforward, so alive to fundamental values. Of course, no doubt she did sometimes "forget" to declare garments bought abroad, but from her own admission it seemed that her contraband was usually detected. In any case, he knew from his own experience behind the Customs' bench that beautiful, innocent-eyed girls are always suspect-they are much more likely to have their cases searched than any other type of traveller. He had already formed the opinion that if by any conceivable chance Linda were involved in large-scale smuggling, she played her part before the contraband left the country of its origin.
Now, acutely aware that he was falling in love again, he sought to dispel his suspicions completely by asking her some leading questions.
"I gather you have talked a lot about your work to Barbara," he said. "She was saying that you do sometimes meet some very strange characters ? .,
"Oh yes, plenty of them," she answered. .
"Unpleasant ones?"
"Oh, now and again. But doesn't one meet dubious types in every job-whether one's working in a shop, an office or wherever you like? "
"Yes," he agreed. "I was thinking of really unpleasant characters-crooks and big-time smugglers."
"I have met a few. We met some the other night, didn't we?" Her face became serious. "It happens that I know a person who has a lot to do with those sort of people, but I don't want to talk about him now. He can be rather a bore!" Her hand slid into his beneath the table. "You have made me think of someone I'd like to forget today. You and I are having such a lovely time together."
"We are," he said, wishing with all his heart that he hadn't started asking her questions, "and we're going to have a fine afternoon too."
"Let's look round Haarlem," she suggested. "It's such a beautiful, friendly old town."
WHEN they left the tavern, she first took him to the cathedral, whose architecture was simply expressive of the deeply religious character of the Dutch. Its interior had a peaceful, happy atmosphere which caused Mike and Linda to linger there longer than they intended. An unseen organist was playing Bach, and for a while they sat in a pew, allowing the glorious music to flood through their beings. It awoke an identical response in both of them; they felt drawn together, conscious of a wonderful sense of detachment from the world outside, as though they had temporarily escaped from the bonds of time into the eternal where life is always alive and vibrant and vivid.
When late in the afternoon, Mike and Linda entered the cool interior of Haarlem museum, they felt they had stepped right into the middle of a scene by a Dutch painter. At first, they had the building to themselves. In the Renaissance-room, where the evening sunlight pouring through the tall, mullioned windows was mirrored in the dark mahogany tables and the pewter and brass, seeming to give an almost three-dimensional effect to the masterpieces round the walls, they turned to each other of one accord and he took her in his arms.
She raised her face to his and for a moment looked at him shyly, intimately. Then as his lips met hers, she closed her eyes, delighting in the clean, fresh vigour of his kiss.
The sound of voices echoing down the tiled corridor outside made them break apart. A short while later they left, for the time being not wanting anyone's company except each other's.
Hand in hand they walked beside a canal, talking little as the evening shadows deepened and lights were turned on one by one in the ancient canal-side houses. But as they made their way back into the town, their pensive, happy mood gradually gave way to one of greater exuberancy. Light-hearted, inconsequential conversation sprang up between them and they felt a sudden need for gaiety and brightness, as though the song in their hearts was almost too deep and poignant to be maintained for long, and must now be transposed into a minor key.
And so they had their evening meal in a cafe patronized by art students. It was a long, low cellar, the walls of which were covered with murals depicting the bulb fields in a somewhat futuristic style. Here the beer was served in tall pots and the food consisted mainly of inexpensive egg dishes and salads. An accordionist played popular tunes and the students sang rousing choruses, whilst waitresses in colourful national costumes bustled amongst the red-topped tables.
But despite the modernity of the scene, it was nevertheless traditional in its bright cleanliness, its vibrancy, its happiness. One felt that Brueghel would have been glad to paint it, and perhaps his attention might have been caught by the two visitors from overseas who sat at a corner table; the tall, dark young man in shirt-sleeves whose arm rested lightly round the shoulders of a beautiful, gently-smiling girl, her hair still crowned by a circlet of spring flowers.
"Oh, Mike, it's been such a happy, happy day! " she murmured.
" We will have some more together. What are you doing tomorrow? "
"Nothing much."
" And the day after? "
"On Monday I'm going away for a couple of days with Mr. Van Loman and Eddie to do some sailing."
"Oh hell!"
"I'll be back on Wednesday."
"That doesn't leave us many days together. "
"No, I suppose it doesn't," she said regretfully. "And in a week's time there's the annual Flower Parade. There's also a rehearsal on Friday."
"Are you taking part in it then? "
She nodded. "I'm going to be Pandora in Pandora's Box."
"Can't I be in the box too? "
"You'd hate it, Mike!" she answered, laughing. "You'd have to dress up, and I don't think fancy-dress would suit you."
"Why not?"
"Because you strike me as being a person who should always be himself-simple and natural and not trying to act a part."
"I'm quite a good actor-I used to go in for amateur dramatics at school."
" Did you?" She gave him a fond smile. "What else did you do at school?" . .
"Box and play cricket."
"I'd have thought that was much more your line. You know, you've told me awfully little about yourself."
" Have I? I'm sorry."
"Barbara's told me a bit."She hesitated. "I gather you have had an unhappy affair?"
"Yes," he answered, "but that's forgotten now."
"It hasn't affected you deeply? I mean it hasn't made you cynical about women in general?"
"I don't know. Would you say "it has?"
"Not from what I've seen of you."
SHE paused. "But just now and again, when you are looking at me, I must admit there is a funny expression in your eyes. It's almost as though you were. . . well, suspicious of me in some way."
"I'm not suspicious any longer."
"But were you ? "
"Perhaps just a little." He was determined not to spoil the day by inviting any more revelations; if she had got entangled in some criminal mesh, he would learn about it gradually, and somehow he would free her from it. And so he said, "I still can't understand why anyone as perfect as you can be bothered with a very ordinary chap like me."
"I'm far from perfect and I'd never describe a man who's given me such a wonderful day as being 'ordinary.' '' She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "I'll tell you one of the things I like about you, Mike. You're so observant and appreciative of what you see. In fact, sometimes you strike me as being almost a trained observer-like an artist."
"Well, I'm not one," he assured her with a grin.
"You may be in your own way. Tell me about your job-I seem to remember Barbara saying you work at London Airport. Is that right?"
"Yes, quite right," he answered uneasily, hoping that he would be spared the necessity of telling her a pack of lies.
"What are you-an aircraft fitter? "
"No. I have to carry out inspections."
" Oh, are you one of those men who make sure that planes are air-worthy? Now I can understand why you seem to notice so much!"
He cut short the conversation by asking a passing waitress for the bill. It was a great temptation to tell Linda what his profession really was, but he felt that might be a fatal thing to do. If she were being blackmailed into taking part in smuggling schemes, the knowledge that he was a Customs Officer might make her frightened to give him any further information; she would probably close up like a clam and any chance of helping her would be lost.
At about nine o'clock, they caught a train back to Amsterdam and had a seat to themselves at the end of the corridor compartment. Linda now felt deliciously tired, and leaning against Mike, she closed her eyes. But the journey was only a short one, and it seemed to her that she had been sleeping for a very few minutes when she was awakened by a kiss on her forehead. She kissed him back.
"Thank you for the nicest day I have ever spent in Holland," she said softly.
BACK in the hotel, they were crossing the foyer when they encountered Mr. Van Loman who had just come out of the lounge.
"Hallo! Have you had a pleasant day?" he asked, beaming at them.
" Yes thank you," answered Linda. "The bulb fields were lovely."
"Before you go home you, must visit the growers with whom I'm associated. It's only a small concern but they go in for a lot of hybridization and experimental growing. I think you might find it quite interesting."
"I'm sure we would. And so would my father."
" Then I suggest you come in about a week's time. The tulips which they specialize in should be at their best then-particularly the Rainbow Parrots; they have a very fine strain which comes into bloom a little later than others you may have seen."
Mike said, "The only thing is that next Saturday is the Flower Parade."
"Ah yes, that is so! Then let's make it Monday week and I'll have a word with my associates to let them know we will be coming."
"Thank you so much," smiled Linda.
Mr. Van Loman turned to Mike.
" There's a matter which I feel I must mention to you, Mr. Foster. About an hour ago I happened to see your charming sister come in. She looked so happy. But when she collected the key of her room from the desk, she was handed a letter by the hall porter. I could not help noticing how distressed she was when she read it. I do hope she hasn't received bad news."
Mike looked worried. "Thanks for mentioning it. I'll go up at once and see what the trouble is." He glanced at Linda. "Like to come too?"
"If you want me to," she answered.
They said good-night to Mr. Van Loman and went up in the lift.
"It's so like Mr. Van Loman to mention a thing like that," said Linda. "He's so kindhearted that he just hates to see anyone unhappy."
Entering Barbara's room, they found her lying face downward on the bed crying her eyes out. Linda tried to comfort her while Mike quickly scanned the crumpled letter lying on the floor. He had already guessed that it was from Auntie Grace in reply to Barbara's letter which she had written after Madame Rissac had accepted her as a pupil, but he had not supposed that it could be quite so unpleasant as in fact it was. Not only had their aunt turned down flat Barbara's request to be allowed to go to the modelling school in Paris, but she had added a number of remarks which for sheer vitriolic unpleasantness were hard to beat. First she accused the child of the basest ingratitude in wanting to leave her, and then came stringent criticisms of her character and appearance. She ended with a series of abuses about Mike.
Mike's face was white with anger as he passed the letter to Linda. After glancing through it, she realized it was up to her to deal with this situation-at the moment, Mike was too angry to be able to give the gentle reassurance and comfort which Barbara needed.
"LISTEN, Mike," she said, her hand on his shoulder, "this is one of those times when a big sister is needed rather than a big brother. Will you trust me to cope? "
He nodded and left the room.
"Have you read what she says?" Barbara asked chokingly as Linda sat down on the bed and put an arm round her.
"I have;" she answered. "I thought it horrid, but you must try not to worry about it."
"It was the things she said about Mike which upset me more than anything. "
"We both know they are not true, so what does it matter? Do you remember telling me a few days ago that he was a wonderful person?"
"Yes,"
"Well, I've found that out for myself today."
Barbara looked up at her in silence for a moment, then a smile showed itself through her tears.
"Have you had a lovely time together? "
"It's 'been quite perfect."
"Oh, it's marvellous to hear you say that! I-I feel selfish being miserable now-in fact, I'm beginning not to be any more. You see, I've wanted so much for you to like each other."
"He's everything which you said he was, and I think that when he's got over his very natural anger with your aunt he will be able to see some way of putting things right."
"Yes," Barbara whispered, "I'm sure he will."
Linda gently stroked her hair.
" What about bed now?"
Barbara got up slowly and smoothed her crumpled skirt.
"Will you stay and talk while I get into my pyjamas?"
"Of course I will. I'll tell you a bout some of the things we saw to-day."
A little while later, Linda drew the curtains and turned off the bedside lamp. Moonlight streamed into the room, picking out the crumpled whiteness of the letter on the floor. Her fingers closed round it and she tore it into small pieces which she dropped into the wastepaper basket. Then she came back to the bed and kissed Barbara goodnight.
Barbara gave a little sigh of contentment. But a few moments after the door closed behind Linda, she began to cry softly into her pillow.
It would be in a sence inaccurate to describe an Amsterdam Sunday as quiet, for the countless church bells ring from the early hours of the morning until late in the evening. But the atmosphere is very peaceful.
Mike, Barbara and Linda spent a leisurely morning together. They got up late, attended a morning service, and then took a pre-lunch stroll along the banks of the Amstel.
On the way back to the hotel, Mike brought up the problem of Auntie Grace's letter, which so far had not been mentioned today.
"I can't understand why she's so anxious to keep a hold on you," he said to Barbara, "After all, she's never shown the slightest affection for either of us."
Linda remarked, "Perhaps it is that she just likes someone around to bully."
"She likes that all right," he agreed, " but it could be there's a little more to it. I think what I'll do is to write to the solicitors who have got our parents' wills. There are several questions I would like to ask them, then we'll know where we are."
"But Auntie Grace is my legal guardian, isn't she?" asked Barbara.
"That's something I'm not Slife about. Uncle Bill was-there"s no doubt about that--but I don't know whether she was specifically mentioned in Mother's will. I did see the will ,ecno but I can't remember now. If she isn't mentioned then I should imagine she can do nothing, to stop you going to Paris."
"I never want to see her again!" Barbara spoke between clenched teeth.
"You will have to do that," he told her, " but it needn't be for long."
"Will you write to-day?" she asked him.
"I will." he promised.
He spent the afternoon in the hotel writing-room for he had other letters to write besides the one to the solicitors. Equally important was his official application to be trained for the Investigation Branch when he returned to duty. He did not think he stood much of a chance-the required standard was so tremendously high and ereht were many applicants. However at least his name might be put on a waiting-list.
When he had finished his letters, he walked on to the balcony outside the writing-room, and for some minutes stood watching the calm, peaceful scene of the sunlit canal and the beautiful old houses with their tulip-filled window-boxes on the opposite bank.
Lighting a cigarette; he allowed his thoughts to wander off into day-dreams of the future. He pictured to himself a life of bliss, married to Linda and owning a trim little house at Kew, say, or Richmond. His working hours would be spent doing a job which fascinated him- hunting smugglers -and his spare time would be occupied by an adoring wife and children, carpentry and gardening. Until this trip to Holland, he had never taken much interest in horticulture, but now he thought it would be fun to grow lots of bulbs and plan out a tiny garden.
HIS cigarette was nearly finished when he heard voices on the balcony above the one on which he stood. They drifted down to him faintly but he recognized them as belonging to Mr. Van Loman and Eddie. He strained his ears to catch the gist of their conversation and what he heard stimulated all his professional curiosity in the activities of the Bond Street jeweller.
"I shall return to London a week- on Tuesday," Mr. Van Loman was saying, "and you had better come with me."
"But I've got to get the stuff to New York," objected Eddie. "I was under the impression that Operation Rainbow was going to cover both trips."
"I've been thinking it would be best to confine it to the London run." said his father. "After all, the profit on that alone will be enormous. How many stones were you proposing to take to America?"
"Twenty of Schulman's last batch."
"So! I think it is too many for one time."
"They will be perfectly safe."
"You've tried out a method of securing them? "
"Their security is assured."
"Nevertheless, I would prefer that you first helped me with the Swiss bunch to London."
"Will they be ready by a week tomorrow? "
"Oh yes. there is no doubt at all. Some are ready now, and our friend has promised the rest in a few days' time."
There was a long pause and Mike thought they had probably gone inside. Then he heard Eddie say, "Father, I still think I should go to New York."
"Well, there is plenty of time for us to argue the point."
"I can't understand why you don't use the girl more." Eddie sounded irritated. "Don't you trust her? .,
" I think so." Mr. Van Loman's tone was reflective. "But just to make sure, I'm going to give her a little present."
Mike heard on more, for at this moment some other people came out on to the balcony and their voices completely drowned the ones above. As he walked through the writing-room and into the foyer to post his letters he felt quite sick with apprehension. From what he had heard, it seemed possible that the Van Lomans were planning to smuggle jewellery of some kind to London and probably diamonds to New York, and it also seemed likely that Linda knew perfectly well what they were up to.
Yet despite all the suspicious facts which were piling up against her, he still argued with himself that she could be-and most probably was-completely innocent.
MIKE'S heart was in conflict with his head, and it was his heart which won the day. However, a certain amount of disquietude persisted at the back of his mind.
That evening, Mr. Cartright went out to dinner with a friend who was a bulb exporter, and so Linda joined Mike and Barbara at their table. After dinner, Rafael and Alicia Montenegro came in for coffee and stayed talking until about ten o'clock.
After the Montenegros had left and Barbara had gone to bed, Mike and Linda had a short time to themselves. They went into the lounge and sat down.
"You look worried this evening, Mike," she said gently. "Is anything the matter? "
"Not really," he answered. "It's just that I'm sorry you are going off to-morrow-that's all."
"I'm sorry too, but I can't offend Mr. Van Loman by putting him off. He is so sweet."
"What time will you be back on Wednesday? "
"I think he said about lunchtime."
"Then we can do something together in the afternoon ? "
"If you like."
"That's a date then."
The only other person in the lounge got up to go. Mike waited until he was alone with Linda, and then he put his arm round her shoulder, drawing her close against him. Her soft hair brushed his cheek and their fingers interlaced.
"Mike, I want to ask you something." Her voice sounded a little strained.
"Well go ahead," he said gently.
"Are you quite sure that you have got over your broken engagement yet?"
"I've already told you I have-I said so yesterday."
"I wonder," she murmured.
"Why, what's the trouble? "
"Just that I've felt you have been different this evening-I've seen that hard, suspicious look in your eyes. It only shows for, a moment and then it's gone."
He laughed a little uneasily.
"I'm sorry but I think you must be imagining it."
"Perhaps I am, but . . . well, it frightens me a little. It makes me feel you don't altogether trust me." Her fingers tightened round his. "Mike, I'm not going to run away from you,"
"And I won't let you down. If you should at any time find yourself in a really sticky situation you can count on me; I'll give you all the help I can."
She laughed softly. "I can't imagine an occasion like that arising. But it's nice to know that if it did you would get me out of it."
The innocence in her voice gave him the reassurance which he needed. As he kissed her, all his suspicions were for the time being blotted out by the wonder and enchantment of her love for him.
(Another instalment next week.)
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