had done hitherto. There was a good deal of c ompetition to secure him for a partner at dances, and it could have b een that he was less choosy than he had been when the Ariadne left E ngland, but whenever Karin caught sight of him in the evenings he a ppeared to have either an enchanting blonde, a southern type of dark- h aired beauty, or a redhead who was far, far redder than she was h erself, either hanging on his arm, or sharing a settee with him; and in e ach case the lady appeared to be enjoying herself hugely and to be m aking enormous strides towards cementing the friendship while Kent Willoughby himself looked so completely relaxed and content that it s eemed reasonable to suppose this was not a case of having been c ornered at last, but a natural surrendering to something he found far m ore delightful than he had anticipated.
As a result of looking on at him dancing Karin knew he was a most finished performer, as much at home with beat numbers as with the staider, old-fashioned dances. But although there was more than one occasion when she found herself without a partner, and he must have observed this fact, he did not offer to partner her on the glistening floor. On one occasion he looked across at her almost deliberately, and his eyebrows went up quite noticeably as if he was surprised she was a temporary Cinderella, but although he was merely an onlooker at the time he did not cross over to her and ask her whether she would like to dance.
He merely turned away after a minute, lighted a cigarette, and then went up on deck as if he had had enough of the highly concentrated atmosphere for one night. Karin felt furious at the snub, and as she made her way to her cabin she wondered why he still went out of his way to snub her sometimes. There were occasions when he was quite affable, when he nodded to her casually if he met her on deck, even smiled at her brilliantly once or twice, and always had a few words for her when they met in the dining-saloon. But it was plain that he was bent on preventing anything in the nature of a friendship growing up between them, or even an acquaintance that might in time develop its warmer side.
Why? Karin wondered. And although she assured herself constantly that she disliked him because he was an arrogant man, a self-centered man, and a man who could be — she felt certain — a little cruel, she was not entirely happy about a situation that was far from flattering to herself, since amongst all the rest of the attractive women passengers she was the despised and rejected ... the only one, very possibly, he had kissed and turned his back upon!
Although somehow she couldn’t see him in the role of a shipboard lover. He was too aloof and reserved, possibly too terrified of involving himself ... and that could explain the reason why his women friends were numerous rather than carefully selected. There was safety, he no doubt believed, in numbers, and so long as he remembered this no one was likely to be hurt.
Least of all himself.
It had never even occurred to Karin before that the weather could remain as perfect as it did during their crossing of the Indian Ocean. Day after day the same blue sea, brilliant sky, and radiant sun. It was possible, she supposed, to rebel against the monotony after a time, but that couldn’t be so in her case. She adored the sun, she actually seemed to thrive on blistering heat, and she certainly looked a picture of golden-skinned health and beauty as the sun-soaked days slid past.
She was glad she had bought herself lots of suitable clothes to wear. She had sun-tops, cotton dresses, linen dresses, silk shantung dresses, elegant tailored slacks. And at night she made her appearance in chiffon and organza and wild silk. She always looked, despite her red hair and her coating of tan, rather like a piece of Dresden china, without the ability to take a proper amount of care of herself. But this was, actually, quite untrue, for she was more capable than
As a result of looking on at him dancing Karin knew he was a most finished performer, as much at home with beat numbers as with the staider, old-fashioned dances. But although there was more than one occasion when she found herself without a partner, and he must have observed this fact, he did not offer to partner her on the glistening floor. On one occasion he looked across at her almost deliberately, and his eyebrows went up quite noticeably as if he was surprised she was a temporary Cinderella, but although he was merely an onlooker at the time he did not cross over to her and ask her whether she would like to dance.
He merely turned away after a minute, lighted a cigarette, and then went up on deck as if he had had enough of the highly concentrated atmosphere for one night. Karin felt furious at the snub, and as she made her way to her cabin she wondered why he still went out of his way to snub her sometimes. There were occasions when he was quite affable, when he nodded to her casually if he met her on deck, even smiled at her brilliantly once or twice, and always had a few words for her when they met in the dining-saloon. But it was plain that he was bent on preventing anything in the nature of a friendship growing up between them, or even an acquaintance that might in time develop its warmer side.
Why? Karin wondered. And although she assured herself constantly that she disliked him because he was an arrogant man, a self-centered man, and a man who could be — she felt certain — a little cruel, she was not entirely happy about a situation that was far from flattering to herself, since amongst all the rest of the attractive women passengers she was the despised and rejected ... the only one, very possibly, he had kissed and turned his back upon!
Although somehow she couldn’t see him in the role of a shipboard lover. He was too aloof and reserved, possibly too terrified of involving himself ... and that could explain the reason why his women friends were numerous rather than carefully selected. There was safety, he no doubt believed, in numbers, and so long as he remembered this no one was likely to be hurt.
Least of all himself.
It had never even occurred to Karin before that the weather could remain as perfect as it did during their crossing of the Indian Ocean. Day after day the same blue sea, brilliant sky, and radiant sun. It was possible, she supposed, to rebel against the monotony after a time, but that couldn’t be so in her case. She adored the sun, she actually seemed to thrive on blistering heat, and she certainly looked a picture of golden-skinned health and beauty as the sun-soaked days slid past.
She was glad she had bought herself lots of suitable clothes to wear. She had sun-tops, cotton dresses, linen dresses, silk shantung dresses, elegant tailored slacks. And at night she made her appearance in chiffon and organza and wild silk. She always looked, despite her red hair and her coating of tan, rather like a piece of Dresden china, without the ability to take a proper amount of care of herself. But this was, actually, quite untrue, for she was more capable than
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