Linnet shook herself impatiently.
That must be Jackie and her young man.
She'd go out and meet them.
She was standing in the open doorway as Jacqueline and Simon Doyle got out of the car.
"Linnet!" Jackie ran to her. "This is Simon.
Simon, here's Linnet.
She's just the most wonderful person in the world."
Linnet saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with very dark blue eyes, crisply curling brown hair, a square chin and a boyish, appealingly simple smile...
She stretched out a hand.
The hand that clasped hers was firm and warm...
She liked the way he looked at her, the naпve genuine admiration.
Jackie had told him she was wonderful, and he clearly thought that she was wonderful...
A warm sweet feeling of intoxication ran through her veins.
"Isn't this all lovely?" she said. "Come in, Simon, and let me welcome my new land agent properly."
And as she turned to lead the way she thought:
"I'm frightfully - frightfully happy.
I like Jackie's young man... I like him enormously..."
And then with a sudden pang,
"Lucky Jackie."
Chapter 8
Tim Allerton leant back in his wicker chair and yawned as he looked out over the sea.
He shot a quick sidelong glance at his mother.
Mrs Allerton was a good-looking, white-haired woman of fifty.
By imparting an expression of pinched severity to her mouth every time she looked at her son, she sought to disguise the fact of her intense affection for him.
Even total strangers were seldom deceived by this device and Tim himself saw through it perfectly.
He said,
"Do you really like Majorca, Mother?"
"Well," Mrs Allerton considered, "it's cheap."
"And cold," said Tim with a slight shiver.
He was a tall, thin young man, with dark hair and a rather narrow chest.
His mouth had a very sweet expression; his eyes were sad and his chin was indecisive.
He had long delicate hands.
Threatened by consumption some years ago, he had never displayed a really robust physique.
He was popularly supposed "to write," but it was understood among his friends that inquiries as to literary output were not encouraged.
"What are you thinking of, Tim?"
Mrs Allerton was alert.
Her bright, dark-brown eyes looked suspicious.
Tim Allerton grinned at her.
"I was thinking of Egypt."
"Egypt?" Mrs Allerton sounded doubtful.
"Real warmth, darling.
Lazy golden sands.
The Nile.
I'd like to go up the Nile, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, I'd like it." Her tone was dry. "But Egypt's expensive, my dear.
Not for those who have to count the pennies."
Tim laughed.
He rose, stretched himself.
Suddenly he looked alive and eager.
There was an excited note in his voice.