Free No Time For Love (Bantam Series No. 40) by Barbara Cartland Page A

me at this address.” He made as if to take a card from his pocket—then changed his mind and wrote the address down on a piece of paper.
    “Just call a messenger,” he said, “and I’ll come round as quickly as possible.”
    “I am sure I shall want nothing,” Larina replied. “I shall be too busy shopping.”
    “That’s right,” Mr. Donaldson smiled. “You enjoy yourself, Miss Milton. I don’t think you will want anything very elaborate. Since Mr. Farren has been ill I don’t suppose he will be entertaining extensively.”
    “No, of course not,” Larina answered.
    “The gardens of the Villa are very beautiful,” Mr. Donaldson said. “In fact people say they are the most beautiful gardens in the whole of Southern Italy, and the Villa itself is superb! It was originally the house of a famous Roman Senator, but I expect Mr. Farren will want to tell you about it himself.”
    “I feel I am dreaming!” Larina said. “This cannot be happening. If you only knew what it meant to me ... ”
    She stopped suddenly. She had been on the verge of revealing too much of her private feelings to a stranger.
    “I can understand,” Mr. Donaldson said. “I often feel like that when I am dealing with Mr.—”
    He checked himself and seemed to stumble over the name as he finished: “—Farren and his brothers.”
    He moved towards the door.
    “And now, Miss Milton, if you will excuse me,” he said. “I have a lot to do before I call for you on Thursday, and there is not much of today left.”
    Larina saw him to the door and held out her hand.
    “Good-bye, Mr. Donaldson,” she said. “Thank you, thank you very much indeed!”
    “Good-bye, Miss Milton,” he replied gravely.
    As he walked away, she saw that he had a motor-car driven by a chauffeur waiting for him a little way down the street.
    She stared in surprise.
    A motor-car!
    There were only a few of them in London and the public looked at them in surprise and even consternation.
    Elvin had never mentioned anything about motor-cars when they had been talking together, and she could not imagine him driving one of those ugly vehicles which caused so much dust and frightened the horses.
    “The day I have to visit my patients in a motor-car,” she had heard her father say often enough. “I will give up my practice! Why, to come hooting up to the door would frighten anyone with a bad heart into having a seizure!”
    “They are so nasty and smelly!” Larina’s mother had complained.
    “Everyone is crazy for speed,” Dr. Milton had gone on, “faster trains, faster ships, motor-cars rushing along the roads, running over children and dogs—where will it all end?”
    “Where indeed?” his wife echoed with a sigh. “I know of nothing more delightful than driving quietly and with dignity in a comfortable carriage.”
    But secretly Larina had often longed to go in a motorcar. Then peeping round the door, as she saw Mr. Donaldson drive off she half wished she could be sitting beside him.
    Even the noise the car made as it journeyed down Eaton Terrace had something exciting about it.
    But as she closed the door she told herself that for the moment everything seemed exciting.
    How could it be possible that she was going to Italy in three days’ time?
    Italy which she had always longed to see, which she had learnt about, read about and talked about to her father.
    And Sorrento of all places!
    She had not told Mr. Donaldson because it made her feel shy. But the reason she was particularly interested was that it was near Sorrento that Ulysses was said to have resisted the call of the Sirens. He had plugged the ears of his crew with wax and made them lash him to the mast of the ship so that he should not be enslaved by their voices.
    Of all the books that her father had made her read Larina had been most interested in those about Greece.
    Dr. Milton had been particularly concerned with archaeological discoveries in Pompeii and Herculaneum and with the tombs that had