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again. Things were moving at far too great a pace for her peace of mind.
    She found it difficult to relax, only picking at the delicious dishes prepared by Vane Oliver’s splendid cook. Later she walked in the garden, glancing frequently towards the gateway, wondering where they were, what they were doing, how long they would be.
    Liz had no experience of men such as Vane; he could do irreparable harm. Oh, why had she ever allowed herself to be persuaded to come here? She should have stuck to her guns and remained in London. He had probably only been bluffing when he said she would not have the job of designer if she did not go to Hong Kong.
    At eleven Debra was still on edge. Liz never stayed out this late. Had anything happened? Why hadn’t they left a message as to where they had gone?
    It was well past midnight when she heard his car. She was in the drawing room, in darkness. Now she got up and switched on a lamp, throwing the delicate room into shadows, disguising the loveliness of the silk-clad walls.
    She picked up a magazine, sat in the circle of light and pretended to be reading, only looking up when the door was pushed open and Liz burst in excitedly.
    ‘Debra, you needn’t have waited up.’ She was vibrant and glowing, like someone in love, thought Debra painfully.
    ‘I’ve not waited particularly,’ she replied with an attempt at lightheartedness, not wishing to prick Liz’s bubble of happiness in front of Vane. She could wait until she got her alone. The girl must be warned—if it was not too late. ‘I was engrossed in a story, I hardly noticed the time.’
    Vane, who had followed Liz into the room, plucked the book from her fingers. ‘Clever girl, reading upside down.’
    Debra shrugged self-consciously. ‘Okay, so I was waiting. Isn’t it natural I should feel worried? I had no idea where you’d gone.’
    ‘Liz is quite safe with me,’ said Vane, as though it was obvious.
    ‘Of course,’ added the younger girl, clinging to his arm and gazing adoringly up into his eyes. ‘We’ve been to the opera and then for a meal. I’ve had a wonderful time!’
    Debra could hardly believe that. She knew what Chinese operas were about—gaudy costumes, elaborately made-up faces, and plenty of noise.
    No, it was the man himself who was the attraction, and the more time they spent together the less Debra liked it. To him it was all a game, there was no way that he could fall for a slip of a girl like Liz. It was merely a way of passing the time, satisfying his craving for female company.
    Women were his life. Women surrounded him. He designed clothes for them, they modelled for him, worked for him, and in between he wined and dined them, and undoubtedly made love to them.
    But he was not going to make love to Liz, not if Debra had anything to do with it. She said tightly, ‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself, Liz. I think it’s time you went to bed now, though. You’re not used to such late nights.’
    Liz pouted and looked appealingly at Vane. He smiled ruefully and nodded. ‘Debra’s right—a pretty girl like you must have her beauty sleep.’ He kissed the tip of her nose and pushed her gently away. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart, pleasant dreams.’
    She went then, reluctantly, but because Vane had insisted she did not argue as she would have done with Debra.
    As soon as they were alone Debra turned on him. ‘You had no right to take Liz out like that! Hasn’t anything I’ve said made any difference?’
    Amusement lurked in his dark eyes. ‘Not a bit. How about a nightcap?’
    ‘Don’t change the subject,’ she snapped, watching him angrily as he filled two glasses, handing one to her and swallowing the contents of the other as though badly in need of it.
    She looked at him tightly. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you’ll take Liz out as often as you like, regardless of how I feel?’
    He shrugged lazily, leaning back against the mantelpiece, eyes half hooded in that sensual way he had.