She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. She was surprised at his modesty. Then the lady smiled and her radiance, even in the darkness, warmed Gerald unexpectedly. She finished the olive and looked up. John’s demeanor shifted. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked.
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