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possessive way with her cousin.
    Aunt Cora closed the door as the Humber purred away from the kerb, and turned to her niece, her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “John Miller is not all he pretends to be,” she said with certainty, and returned to the dining-room and the shrill enquiries of Bridie.
    Katie smiled at her aunt’s pronouncement and went back into the lounge where Jamie looked up enquiringly as she came in. “What did big brother want?” he asked curiously.
    “Aunt Cora called him in to fetch his coat,” Katie explained, “and to thank him for rescuing me.”
    “He was all dressed up,” said Jamie. “I thought he’d become human and had come to ask you out to lunch. I suppose he’s got a lunch date with the Barlow.”
    “He has a lunch date,” Katie said thoughtfully. “I supposed it might be with Eleanor Barlow.”
    “Bound to be,” he grinned wolfishly. ‘The fair Eleanor has ambitions in that direction, and if big brother doesn’t watch his step he’ll find himself walking down the aisle with her.”
     
    It was as hot as ever the following day and Katie felt like doing nothing at all except seek out the coolest spot she could find and close her eyes against the fierce sun. Remembering the cool breeze to be found usually on the cliff tops above the quay, she set off, minus Bridie, to enjoy the high solitude. No one appeared as she passed Coral House, except the amiable Goliath, who watched her, his tail drooping disappointedly after a frantic welcome, as she climbed the cliff path, the slight breeze off the sea already increasing as she went higher.
    A thick, sturdy gorse bush offered shade and the springy, warm-scented turf was as comfortable as many a chair as she sat down facing the placid sea, as shining and gentle as blue silk. She sat hugging her knees, her chin resting on her folded arms, black-fringed grey eyes half closed against the dazzle of the water, and became lost in her thoughts.
    Aunt Cora had been evasive when Katie had mentioned the length of her stay. “I must find a job,” she had told the old lady. “I can’t be a lady of leisure all my days, Aunt Cora.”
    “But I like your company,” her aunt had said. “There is no need for you to look for work, I like you here with me.” The usually unrelenting features had softened as she took Katie’s hands in hers. “You’re my only family, Katherine, and I’m not a poor woman by any means, nor a young one. I should like you to live here with me and simply enjoy yourself, be my family.”
    “But it isn’t fair,” Katie pointed gently, ‘You can’t keep me—it wouldn’t be right.”
    “If I choose to do it, it is right,” Aunt Cora had insisted firmly. ‘You don’t have to stay in with me, I don’t expect you to; you have good friends in the Dennisons. I want you to come and go as you please, make this your home.”
    Her feelings aroused by something unspoken but understood, Katie had hugged the stem-looking old lady and kissed her affectionately. “Thank you, Aunt Cora, I shall love being here for as long as you want me.
    She blinked back a sentimental tear as she looked down on the silken sea and absently brushed the thick black hair from her face. She had thought herself alone on the cliff top until a movement caught her eye and she turned her head. Perched on an uncomfortable-looking folding stool, John Miller concentrated on the painting he was working on, flicking an occasional glance at the scene before him; a fair-sized canvas propped on an easel and an open box beside him. He was half facing her, but looking out over the sea and the harbour, and Katie could not imagine why she had not seen him when she arrived there, concluding that she must have been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she had been oblivious of anyone else.
    He seemed not to mind the blazing sun, in fact he did not even look over-warm, though he sat in the full heat of the sun, his bronzed face distant with concentration. She wondered