. said that as if ... as if you ... really meant it...” “Oh but I do mean it,” replied Madame Vesta, “don’t you realise you’re here to be ...ucked by anyone who fancies you?” Isabel covered her face in her hands and burst into a fit of sobbing. “Ohh ... mfff ... oohh ... s-stop it ... mmmffff .... stop ... it ... I c-can’t bear any m-more ... mmmffff. . . . mmmffff . . . .” “Yes,” said Madame Vesta, musingly. “It’s certainly time to bring you to your senses. Despite all my warnings, you disobey. .. and wondered why she had been so reluctant to give up a night alone in her dumpy apartment for a French meal at Fisherman's Wharf overlooking the San Francisco Bay.She glanced around the restaurant again. The lights were low, the atmosphere hushed. Waiters moved across the deep carpet as quietly as cats. And Francois, her date for the evening, with his lean, handsome face, his classic features, the touch of gray at his temples that made him look even more distinguished than his accent could. More

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