ohn Crawford, the family solicitor, had been listening to Paula for over an hour.

He had not interrupted her once, deeming it wiser to let her unburden herself before asking any relevant questions. Also he had discerned, in his astute and insightful way, that she had not discussed her disastrous marriage with anyone else before tonight. Certainly not at great length, and he decided that in a sense talking to him was a catharsis for her. He believed that by talking, opening up, she would feel better.

Paula finally paused for breath. He instantly detected a relaxation in the way she held her body, a sudden slackening of her rigid facial muscles, and relief was mirrored in her startling blue eyes. "That's about it," she said, smiling a bit uncertainly. "I don't think I've missed anything."

John nodded, continuing to observe her. He recognized she was in total control, calm enough to accept what he was about to say. He cleared his throat. "I don't want to alarm you, and this is only a suggestion, but perhaps we ought to make the children wards of court."

Although she was startled, Paula said steadily enough, "Oh, John, surely that's far too drastic a step. It might even be begging for trouble. It's so inflammatory."

John, who had long harbored a visceral dislike of Jim Fairley, clasped his hands together and brought them up to his face. He looked at her over them, his eyes reflective. "It seems to me, from the things you've told me, that Jim virtually threatened to take those children out of the country, to Canada to be precise, if you don't do as he wants. Isn't-that so, Paula?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"By making children wards of court one prevents their physical removal from their country of domicile by a disgruntled and angry parent involved in this kind of distressing emotional situation."

"Yes, John, I know what it means. But Jim believes I will change my mind about getting a divorce. He's not going to suddenly swoop down, grab the children, and fly off to Toronto. He would certainly try to ascertain what I'm going to do first. Besides, he's in Chamonix."

"And you, Paula, are going to the States in a couple of days. He knows that. He could easily try to pull something whilst you're absent. After all, Geneva is only a few hours away."

"I'm sure he wouldn't—" She stopped abruptly, alertly searching the solicitor's face. "From your expression you obviously think he might."

"There is that possibility." John stood up and walked across the drawing room, poured himself another dry martini from the jug on the bar cart, swung around and apologized: "I'm sorry, I didn't ask you if you wanted another drink. Do you?"

"No, thanks anyway."

Returning to his seat, John sat down, continued: "I'm going to ask you a very blunt question, Paula, a crucial question, and I would like you to think most carefully before you answer."

She nodded.

He said: "Do you believe that Jim is mentally stable?" Without hesitation, Paula replied. "Oh yes, John, I do. I realize he was in a nursing home an awfully long time after his nervous breakdown, but he's fully recovered now. He's behaving quite normally." She smiled ruefully. "If you can call his attitude to me normal, that is. He's stubborn, pigheaded, really, but then he always has been. He blinds himself to the truth, to reality. He's convinced our problems are figments of my imagination, as I just told you. However, I'll say it again, I do not believe he is unstable. Upset at the moment, yes, but that's all."

"Very well, I trust your judgment, and I also understand your reluctance to take steps that would inflame him. However, I think it would be advisable for you to talk to Daisy, alert her to the situation. If Jim should leave Chamonix unexpectedly, she must contact me at once."

"No, not Mummy," Paula exclaimed. "I'd prefer not to worry her. Anyway, I've never confided in her; or anyone, to be truthful. Well, actually, I have spoken to Emily and my

father a few times lately, and they know how bad the marriage is, and, in fact, Emily and Winston have urged me to get a divorce. The point is this... Emily and Winston are going off to Chamonix the day after tomorrow. They'll be there for the next two weeks. I'll speak to her before she leaves, explain everything, and ask her to ring you if anything untoward happens."

John's face brightened. "Good, good. Emily is levelheaded and smart. I feel more confident knowing she's going to be staying at the chalet. As your grandmother always said, there're no flies on Emily. So in view of that, and because you're against it, I'll drop the idea of having you make the twins wards of court." He gave her a funny little smile. "It's crossed my mind that you may think I'm paranoid, but I'm not. Still, I am prudent and fully aware that it's often wiser to take precautions to avert trouble." He leaned forward intently. "That's why I suggested the idea in the first place. Also, it struck me that you were worried about the children yourself, otherwise you wouldn't have brought them to London with you yesterday."

"Yes, I was a bit concerned," Paula agreed. "1 was badly shaken up on Saturday night after Jim left. On Sunday morning I decided I ought to have Lome and Tessa with me. They looked so small and defenseless, so vulnerable, John. They're only babies, and I do love them so much. I even thought of taking them to New York with me, but that would be uprooting them unnecessarily. Nora is quite happy to spend a few weeks in London, and at least the weather's better here than it is in Yorkshire. They'll be fine, and Nora has Parker and Mrs. Ramsey as backup at the London flat."

"Yes, they're both very reliable. Try not to worry, my dear. I'll keep an eye on things at Belgrave Square. Make sure Nora has my telephone numbers, though, and explain that she must ring me if Jim arrives on the scene."

"I'll do that tonight." Paula gazed past John, staring at the dark green damask draperies, her face suddenly thoughtful. She said a little haltingly, "Jim can't take them away from me, can he, John?"

"Of course not. Don't even contemplate such a thing!" John patted her hand and, wishing to reassure her, said, "Jim can threaten all kinds of things, in an effort to make you do as he wishes, but threats are meaningless in the long run. Thankfully, we do have courts of law in this land and they are eminently fair, which is more than I can say about the judicial systems in a lot of other countries."

"Yes," she murmured, then let out a tiny sigh of weariness. "He says I want it all, want everything my way."

John laughed. 'That's like the kettle calling the pot black, Paula. Hasn't it occurred to you that Jim wants it his way?" Not waiting for an answer, the solicitor hurried on, "He's being selfish, expecting you to toe his line, regardless of your own feelings, and despite the fact that you have a disastrous marriage. It's already playing havoc with you emotionally, and it will inevitably start affecting the children. The only thing to do with a marriage that has failed so miserably is to end it immediately, for everyone's sake. Stop the flow of blood, in a manner of speaking. I ought to know."

Paula looked across at him. "Poor John, you went through hell too, didn't you?"

"To put it mildly, my dear," he replied. "However, those troubles are behind me, and Millicent and I are good friends these days, most amicable, really."

"I do hope Jim and I can be friends eventually," Paula said, as if musing aloud. "I don't hate him, far from it. To be honest, John, I feel rather sad for him... because he just cannot face reality." She lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. "But, look, I came here to talk to you about a plan of action, and I want to say now that I wish to be scrupulously fair with him in every way. I want him to have total access to the twins, and of course there's no question about his staying on at the newspapers." She scowled at the solicitor. "I was stunned when he suggested I would take his job away."

John stared into his glass for a moment, slowly lifted his eyes, which were grave and intent. "I don't want to delude you into thinking were going to have an easy time with Jim, because we are not. I know we're going to have a fight on our hands. It's patently obvious, from what you've said, that he doesn't want to let you go, that he is prepared to put up with the worst kind of marital situation to remain your husband. Understandable, perhaps. You are the mother of his children, you are a desirable and accomplished young woman, with immense wealth and power. What man wouldn't want to hang on to you? Also—'

"But Jim isn't interested in my money or my power," Paula cut in rapidly. "Why, John, he resents my business, does nothing but complain about my career."

"Don't be naive!"

Paula stared at him, her brows drawing together as she sat back, her expression changing to one of total disbelief. She opened her mouth, and then quickly closed it, wanting to hear what else John had to say.

"Of course he cares about your money and your power, Paula," the solicitor remarked quietly. "And he always has, in my opinion. Jim is not quite as altruistic as you seem to believe. As your solicitor I feel it is my duty to point this out to you, however unpalatable that might be to you. Jim has apparently been complaining very vociferously about your work, but he knew long before he married you that you were Emma's chief heir. He was also aware that you would not only inherit most of her wealth, but all of her tremendous responsibilities as well. He's merely using your career as an excuse to get at you, to hurt you, to punish you. At the same time, it enables him to paint a picture of himself as the long-suffering, neglected, and injured husband. In other words, he strikes a pose that will gain him sympathy. Please, my dear, do be aware of that for your own sake, and for your own peace of mind."

"Perhaps you're right," she conceded, knowing that John Crawford was a shrewd and brilliant lawyer and a man with great psychological insight into people. She leaned fonvard. "If Jim is interested in money, as you imply"—she shook her head and laughed—"no, insist, then let us give him money. I'm prepared to make a large financial settlement on him. Suggest an amount, John, and let's set a date when we can have a meeting with Jim. He'll be back at the end of the month, as will I, and I would like to put things in motion."

"I can't come up with an amount tonight, off the top of my head," John explained. 'That wouldn't be fair to anyone. It requires careful thought." He took a sip of his martini, put the glass down, and stood up. He walked over to the humidor on a side table, and took a cigar, not wanting her to see the cynical smile that had touched his mouth involuntarily. If my assessment of Jim is correct, and I'm sure it is, money will do the trick, John decided. Clipping off the end of the cigar, he strolled back to his chair, contemplating the settlement. It was a good card to have up his sleeve and would be a powerful negotiating weapon if Jim did prove to be intransigent.

Striking a match, John puffed hard on the cigar until if ignited, then told her: "As far as a meeting is concerned, we can get together any time you wish—" He did not complete his sentence, but began to shake his head in a negative fashion.

"What's wrong?" Paula asked, clasping her hands together, experiencing a stab of apprehension.

"Nothing for you to look so concerned about, my dear. I think, however, that you're going to have your job cut out for you—getting Jim to meet with me, I mean. He's so dead set against the divorce, and obstinate by nature. Maybe it would be better if I simply dropped by for a drink one night when he's in town. On his way back to Yorkshire after the Chamonix trip, perhaps?"

"Yes, that is a good idea," Paula agreed. "He did mutter something about seeing me in London in two weeks, before he left Pennistone Royal on Saturday." Paula pushed herself to the edge of her chair and her face filled with sincerity as she reminded him, "Don't forget that I want to be fair with Jim about the children, and I am willing to be very generous when it comes to money. It's important to me that Jim is financially secure for the rest of his life."

"I'll remember everything," John assured her. "And whilst you're in New York I'll work on the terms of the divorce and make them most acceptable to Jim, I promise." He gave her a fond smile. "Not many women would be as kind as you. He's very lucky."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that right now," she ventured, rising to her feet. "Thank you for being so understanding. I feel better after talking to you and much more positive about the future. And now I'm going to leave you in peace, to have your dinner. I've taken up far too much of your evening as it is."

He squeezed her arm affectionately as he escorted her across the drawing room and out into the small foyer. Loving her mother as he did, he considered Paula to be the daughter he had never had. He felt inordinately protective of her sometimes. Shrewd and clever in business though she was, she had had little or no experience with men, had been protected all of her life by Emma Harte and her parents. In many ways, the harsher aspects of everyday living were unknown to her, and she might well be an easy target for an unscrupulous man.

As they reached the door, John turned her to face him. He bent forward, kissed her cheek and, with a chuckle,, said.

"You can take up my time whenever you wish, my dear. It does a crusty old bachelor like me a lot of good to see your beautiful face. I'm only sorry we were meeting to discuss such a sad matter."

Paula hugged him affectionately. "You're not a crusty old bachelor," she declared, smiling at him. "You're the most wonderful friend—to all of us. Thank you for being that,.and for everything, John. I'll speak to you before I leave for New York."

"Please do, my dear." He opened the door, then caught her arm as she went outside. "It's going to be all right, Paula, really it is. Do try not to worry."

"I will." She ran down the short flight of steps in front of his house in Chester Street, turned and waved. John lifted his hand in response, went inside and closed the door, pressing back his concern for her. v

Paula hurried down the street, making for Belgrave Square, which was only a few minutes away. She had meant it when she had told John Crawford she felt relieved after talking to him. But this was not the only reason why her depression of the last forty-eight hours had lifted so unexpectedly. Making a decision, taking positive and constructive action, had worked wonders for her. Paula never vacillated. Like Emma before her, she was expedient by nature, always preferring action and commitment to waiting. In consequence, marking time for the past year—because of Jim's plane crash and subsequent sojourn in the mental home—had been unendurable. But.she was nothing if not prudent, and she had schooled herself to be patient, had acknowledged months ago that if waiting was debilitating, it was infinitely preferable to making rash moves she might live to regret.

But now, as she walked at a brisk pace, she experienced a great sense of release. The act of talking to John, of putting matters in his hands, was liberating. She was confident he would work out an equable divorce agreement, and surely Jim would be convinced she was serious, in deadly earnest, when he knew she had taken this final step.

Paula glowed with a new optimism as she crossed Belgrave Square and went into the great mansion purchased so many years before by her grandfather, Paul McGill. She slammed the heavy exterior glass-and-wrought-iron door behind her, climbed the short circular staircase that led up to the front entrance of the maisonette, and let herself in with her key.

Slipping off her tweed coat, she hung it in the hall closet and turned as Parker came hurrying out of the back quarters and into the large entrance foyer.'

"Oh, Mrs. Fairley, I was just wondering whether I ought to telephone you at Mr. Crawford's house. Mr. O'Neill is in the drawing room. He's been waiting for you for quite a while. I gave him a drink. Would you like anything, madam?"

"No, thank you, Parker."

Wondering what Uncle Bryan wanted, why he had arrived so unexpectedly and without ringing first, she pushed open the drawing room door and stood stock-still on the threshold. Fully expecting to see Bryan, she was thrown at the sight of Shane. He stood up, grinning like a Cheshire cat from ear to ear.

"My God!" she cried. "What are you doing here?" She pushed the door closed with her foot and ran into his arms, her face wreathed in delighted smiles.

Shane kissed her, took her by the shoulders and held her away from him. "I was so worried about you after those awful phone conversations on Saturday and Sunday that I decided to come home. I arrived at Heathrow about two hours ago."

"Oh, Shane, I'm sorry I worried you... but it is a wonderful surprise to see you, and several days sooner than I expected." She drew him over to the sofa and they sat down, continuing to hold hands. Paula said, with a bright little laugh, "But I'm leaving for New York the day after tomorrow, and you know that—"

"I thought we'd fly back together," he interjected, his dark eyes roving over her lovingly. "As a matter of fact, I concocted a rather good plan in the last half hour. I thought I'd sidetrack for a few days, whisk you off to Barbados for the weekend on our way to the States. What do you think?"

"Oh, Shane," Paula began and hesitated, her face sobering. She said gravely, "I told you Jim asked me if there is another man. And even though I denied it, 1 don't know that he's entirely convinced. What if someone should see us in Barbados? Or even traveling together? I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize my position and my custody of the children. He would be vindictive, I just know he would."

Shane said, "I understand your worry, darling, and I'd taken those points into consideration earlier. Now look, Paula, he's never going to be suspicious of me. It would be like his suspecting your brother Philip, for God's sake. Also, you do own a-boutique in Barbados. You've every reason to go there, to check on it. And, finally, no one will see us on the plane, and we can lay low once we get to Coral Cove."

"Nobody will see us?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I have another surprise for you, Beanstalk. I finally took delivery of the private jet Dad and I decided to buy for the company. I just whizzed across the Atlantic in it, but let's forget that, and pretend our trip to the Caribbean is really its inaugural flight. Come on, say yes, sweetheart."

"All right, then," Paula agreed, making a snap decision. Surely it was safe to travel with Shane. He was her childhood friend, after all. The grave expression fled and her violet eyes lit up. "It's just what I need to give me a lift after the upsetting weekend."

"Yes, it is." He beamed at her. "We have to think of an appropriate name for the jet, you know. Any ideas?"

"No, but I will bring a bottle of champagne and break it on the side, wet its bottom so to speak, even if we don't have a name," she announced, enjoying the sudden and unexpected fun, the joyousness of being with him. Her heart soared with love for him, and she felt the old dizziness, the lightheadedness she experienced when she was with him again after a separation. Shane made all the difference in the world to her. And he made everything seem possible. The residue of her depression fell away so completely it might never have existed.

Shane now pulled her to her feet. -"I told Parker you were going out to dinner. I hope you don't mind my taking you over." He gave her his boyish grin and kissed her forehead. His face immediately turned serious. "I want to know about your meeting with John. We can talk about it over a bottle of good wine and a pleasant meal at the White Elephant."