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stupid, idiotic Katriona Carmichael. Glancing up, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and it did not look like her at all. The girl in the mirror had a soft sweet mouth, and colour in her cheeks, and stars in her eyes. She looked like a girl in love ...
    Katriona turned and flung herself down on the bed and cried as if her heart would break. She did not know why she was crying. Was she crying because she had found out she had a father? Or crying because she knew so little about him, and was scared of finding out more? Wasn’t it better to be happy with a dream father rather than find the reality? He might not like her. He might be just like her mother and only want her in his life when it suited him. The tears continued to flow unchecked, and Katriona knew why. It was because Morgan Grant had gone. He had gone away laughing. He would laugh all the harder if he knew that a silly little nobody like her was crying her heart out in a shabby little bedsitter, and dreaming impossible dreams. Why, anyone as good-looking and personable as Morgan Grant could have any girl he liked ... he wouldn’t waste a thought on her. She was just a job his employer had directed him to see to.
    At last, Katriona lay quiet, completely exhausted. She was trying to picture him in her mind. Tall, virile and bronzed, an outdoor man with grey eyes that had a special far-seeing expression, grey eyes that could be laughing one moment and serious the next, and a shock of thick dark wavy hair, and his teeth were so white against his tanned face when he smiled ... and he smiled often.
    Katriona finally pushed herself off her bed and went through to run a bath. It was foolish of her to waste time thinking about Morgan Grant, but she could not get him out of her mind. After her bath she had opened the envelope. Neatly printed on a card was his name and address: Morgan Grant, Evangeline Station, Lewis Pass Road, Private Bag, Christchurch, and followed by the telephone Number 6820 Hanmer Springs. On the back of the card was written the cost of a first-class return air ticket plus a generous amount for expenses, and this matched the cheque. Also written were ‘Cable when you’re flying or ring when you arrive. See you soon. Morgan.’
    ‘Oh, no, you won’t, Morgan Grant,’ she muttered out loud as she crawled in between the sheets. She made up her mind resolutely not to think about him. Restlessly she tossed and turned, always the same picture forming of him sitting in a huge jet, his long legs stretched out comfortably, and that attractive smile on his face. She would never see him again if she did not go to New Zealand. And she wanted to see him again. She couldn’t go to New Zealand. He would think she was running after him. No, he wouldn’t because he thought she was going to marry Donald, so she was safe going over there. No, she would never be safe going near Morgan Grant. She was infatuated by him and it would be okay when she got over it, then she could safely fly to Evangeline. What a romantic name! Oh, who cared about being safe? She must be out of her mind. She must mail that cheque back to him tomorrow. Then she would start saving her money. She had quite a bit saved, but it would take her another six months or more to save enough for a return ticket and a few nice clothes. Her heart pounded with excitement at the thought.
    She tried fixing her mind on her father, but she had so little to go on, and Morgan would not be relegated to second place in her thoughts. She buried her head under her pillow. It was lucky that she had at least six months or longer to get him out of her system. Probably in a month’s time she would hardly be able to remember what he looked like. In six months this whole episode would be forgotten.
    She fell asleep.
     
    Nearly nine months later Katriona sat tense in her seat as the huge jet lifted off with screaming engines on the first leg of her journey to New Zealand. She thought ruefully of her plan to forget