Island of escape Read Online Free PDF Page A

unnecessarily and rather breathlessly, `That was Mr Gascoyne. He's here, and he wants to see me about that position—now. I'll—I'll have to get dressed.'
    Jake nodded. 'Shall I come along with you, Ellis?
     
    I'm a more experienced judge of character than you are, and I'd like to know what you're letting yourself in for.'
    `No, really, it will be quite all right,' she said quickly. `If I have any doubts I won't commit myself.'
    `That's sensible,' Jake approved. 'You don't have to accept the first thing that comes along ... Well, I'd better let you dress. I'll be downstairs in the Birdcage Bar. Join me there when your interview's over—and it might be a good idea to bring this fellow along so I can meet him. Our table's booked for nine o'clock, so we've plenty of time. Right?'
    `Right,' Ellis agreed, and when he had gone she stood motionless for a moment. Something was bothering her at the back of her mind, but she felt too flustered to dig it out, and switching her attention to what she should wear, she went to the wardrobe. Reason told her she had better wear something neat and sensible, because her age, that she hadn't mentioned in her letter, was somewhat against her when it came to taking on the responsibility of someone else's house.
    A frown creased her brow. The wardrobe was filled with the pretty, expensive clothes Jake had lavished on her. There was nothing there in the least sober and sedate-looking. She turned away and rummaged in her suitcase, and rooted out a long-sleeved white blouse and a slim black skirt. That was more like it. Only before she joined Jake she would have to change. She didn't really think, in any case, that she'd ask Mr Gascoyne down to the Birdcage Bar to meet Jake. There would be a little awkwardness about introducing him, about explaining how she came to be spending a holiday with him. It would be different if he were her uncle, but as it was he was too good-looking and gallant, and
     
    she didn't want to go into detailed explanations.
    So, she told herself with a shrug, she had better depend on her own judgment entirely. Anyhow, what was she worrying about? That poor sheep farmer from a tiny island ! He was sure to be absolutely dependable, and she felt more certain than ever that Jan had merely been amusing herself with him to entertain herself during her holiday.
    Except—his voice over the phone hadn't sounded slow and drawling and countryfied. Not even frightfully Australian. Well, a sheep farmer could be well educated, couldn't he? she reminded herself.
    She tossed off her gown and in seconds had stepped into the skirt and buttoned up her blouse to its rather demure neck. She looked at herself critically in the mirror. She did look young without her make-up, as Jake had said, but though it might add sophistication, she decided not to use it. She'd stress the practical side of her personality. She rather wished now she hadn't had her hair cut. Drawn back from her face and caught in a neat knob at her nape, it had given her a certain staid quality. Now her golden-brown locks had been styled so expertly and cunningly that her hair stood out and framed her pale face in a sophisticatedly sculptured fashion that completely changed her personality. It was impossible to make herself look like the Ellis Lincoln who had kept house so assiduously for Uncle Bill.
    Hastily she dragged a filmy black scarf from the drawer and tied it loosely around her head, confining her gleaming hair. She looked at herself critically. Now she looked more circumspect! And, in fact, without lipstick or eye shadow , she looked encouragingly prim and proper.
    So she thought, unaware that the blue dazzle of her
     
    eyes when she raised her dark lashes destroyed that effect utterly.
    Not many moments later she was stepping out of the elevator and walking along the thickly carpeted hallway to Steven Gascoyne's suite. Her heart was beating fast. She had been waiting for this to happen. She had assured Jake it was