not Uncle.
In view of what she had been told Carol chose one of her new dresses to wear. It was in shell-pink crepe and had a broad pastel-embroidered sash stitched up high under the bosom of the sleeveless bodice. She felt very regal in it, and not at all gauche, which was her usual experience whenever she dressed up for an occasion.
The pink went quite well with her pale hair, she thought. Her complexion had a fresh scrubbed look, but she had never been able to get on with paint and powder on her face, and she saw no reason to start now.
Stephanie with an equally scrubbed face looked very demure in a blue and white dress with a boat-shaped neck and tiny cap sleeves. Both in pale shoes, a handkerchief tucked away in some discreet place, they went out along the corridor and made their way down the carpeted staircase.
The foyer was lit with heavy candelabra-type chandeliers. People in evening dress were wandering about near the various archways. One or two stood around as though waiting to be joined by others. The noise of the Saturday night traffic sounded from the open doors.
Carol saw Gray Barrett quite clearly while they were still on the stairs. He was standing near the restaurant archway talking to an elderly man with a military bearing and luxuriant white moustache. She knew Stephanie's uncle had seen them just as clearly coming down the stairs, but he made no attempt to round off his conversation with the other man as they trailed across the foyer to him and hung about.
Stephanie regarded the hold-up as a matter of course, letting her glance roam idly around while they waited. Carol, lacking the younger girl's poise, and blazingly conscious of herself before the dozens of eyes in the foyer, found every second that they stood there an eternity. She had ample time to notice Gray Barrett's perfectly cut suit of pale grey check, his crisply combed dark hair and clean-shaven somewhat craggy jaw.
She breathed an inward sigh of relief when at last the two men broke up. Expressing a wish that all would go well with the Italian trip, the elderly man gave a last wave and moved off. As he went, Gray Barrett acknowledged the parting comment with a dry one of his own, then he turned and shepherded the girls before him into the restaurant.
The tables draped with white cloths were circular and spaciously arranged. The heavy silverware and tall pillars gave the room a dated elegance. The three of them were led to a table beside the windows. Stephanie chose to sit with her back to them looking into the room. Her uncle took the chair facing her. Carol sat in the side place between them.
They were served immediately with a soup, hot and savoury, then a meat dish. Carol held her knife and fork with trembling hands. She was terrified of committing a blunder, of picking up the wrong item of cutlery in Gray Barrett's presence.
A sheen on her pale hair from the muted glow of the lights, her arms thin and bare, she ate with a sparrowlike timidity. Though she was too afraid to lift her eyes much from her plate, she was aware of the room crowded with diners, of the general relaxed atmosphere, the hum of voices, the clink of tableware, the occasional thread of laughter rising above the background of taped music.
With the meal well under way it became much the same at her own table. Stephanie seemed to come alive now that her uncle was no longer occupied with business matters and she had him just across the table from her. Her brown eyes shone as she made comments to him about the food and about the people in the room. Quite obviously she adored him.
But though she seemed to want to claim the whole of her uncle's attention, Carol got the impression that half the time he didn't even know his niece was there. When he wasn't talking to the waiter or frowning over the wine list he was mainly occupied with the leisurely conversation taking place between himself and two middle-aged business men at the next table, men with whom he appeared to
In view of what she had been told Carol chose one of her new dresses to wear. It was in shell-pink crepe and had a broad pastel-embroidered sash stitched up high under the bosom of the sleeveless bodice. She felt very regal in it, and not at all gauche, which was her usual experience whenever she dressed up for an occasion.
The pink went quite well with her pale hair, she thought. Her complexion had a fresh scrubbed look, but she had never been able to get on with paint and powder on her face, and she saw no reason to start now.
Stephanie with an equally scrubbed face looked very demure in a blue and white dress with a boat-shaped neck and tiny cap sleeves. Both in pale shoes, a handkerchief tucked away in some discreet place, they went out along the corridor and made their way down the carpeted staircase.
The foyer was lit with heavy candelabra-type chandeliers. People in evening dress were wandering about near the various archways. One or two stood around as though waiting to be joined by others. The noise of the Saturday night traffic sounded from the open doors.
Carol saw Gray Barrett quite clearly while they were still on the stairs. He was standing near the restaurant archway talking to an elderly man with a military bearing and luxuriant white moustache. She knew Stephanie's uncle had seen them just as clearly coming down the stairs, but he made no attempt to round off his conversation with the other man as they trailed across the foyer to him and hung about.
Stephanie regarded the hold-up as a matter of course, letting her glance roam idly around while they waited. Carol, lacking the younger girl's poise, and blazingly conscious of herself before the dozens of eyes in the foyer, found every second that they stood there an eternity. She had ample time to notice Gray Barrett's perfectly cut suit of pale grey check, his crisply combed dark hair and clean-shaven somewhat craggy jaw.
She breathed an inward sigh of relief when at last the two men broke up. Expressing a wish that all would go well with the Italian trip, the elderly man gave a last wave and moved off. As he went, Gray Barrett acknowledged the parting comment with a dry one of his own, then he turned and shepherded the girls before him into the restaurant.
The tables draped with white cloths were circular and spaciously arranged. The heavy silverware and tall pillars gave the room a dated elegance. The three of them were led to a table beside the windows. Stephanie chose to sit with her back to them looking into the room. Her uncle took the chair facing her. Carol sat in the side place between them.
They were served immediately with a soup, hot and savoury, then a meat dish. Carol held her knife and fork with trembling hands. She was terrified of committing a blunder, of picking up the wrong item of cutlery in Gray Barrett's presence.
A sheen on her pale hair from the muted glow of the lights, her arms thin and bare, she ate with a sparrowlike timidity. Though she was too afraid to lift her eyes much from her plate, she was aware of the room crowded with diners, of the general relaxed atmosphere, the hum of voices, the clink of tableware, the occasional thread of laughter rising above the background of taped music.
With the meal well under way it became much the same at her own table. Stephanie seemed to come alive now that her uncle was no longer occupied with business matters and she had him just across the table from her. Her brown eyes shone as she made comments to him about the food and about the people in the room. Quite obviously she adored him.
But though she seemed to want to claim the whole of her uncle's attention, Carol got the impression that half the time he didn't even know his niece was there. When he wasn't talking to the waiter or frowning over the wine list he was mainly occupied with the leisurely conversation taking place between himself and two middle-aged business men at the next table, men with whom he appeared to
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