Perchance to Marry by Celine Conway Page A

“Nadine Carmody gives a good rounded performance as the judge’s naughty daughter. A pity that this play has to go on tour before she made the impact she deserves.”
    That was all, really. Sally turned the clipping and saw that a date and the name of the newspaper had been penned on the back of it. And instinctively she knew that it had been pinned to a letter which Marcus had read in this room only a short while ago; the letter she had seen him push into his pocket.
    She slipped the cutting just under the edge of the blotter so that part of it was visible, and went through the hall to the courtyard. After staring across at the hills for a few minutes she went down into the garden and strolled. Her head was aching a little and misery seemed to have settled like a ball of lead just below the base of her throat. Though heaven knew why a few printed words should make her feel benighted. She had known of Nadine Carmody’s existence and might have guessed that a few words of praise in an American newspaper would certainly find their way to Las Vinas. What she hadn’t bargained for was her own sudden disquiet. Or was disquiet too mild a word? Could she possibly be ... jealous?
    No, that was absurd. Her feeling was a natural revulsion from her own situation. Nadine Carmody should have been here at Las Vinas, wearing the sapphire, getting to know Dona Inez, talking of wedding plans, and being made love to by Marcus. But Nadine had been too dazzled by her own minor success in the theatre to contemplate settling on San Palos in comparative obscurity. And events had conspired to place Sally Sheppard in Nadine’s place; so there was no talk of wedding plans, no lovemaking—only an insidious growing hostility within her towards Marcus; which Sally couldn’t understand.
    Looked at sanely, her position was quite clear and simple. In return for being delivered from the horror of finding herself and her mother adrift in Barcelona, and the relief of finding sanctuary at Las Vinas with the promise of posts on the island, Sally was providing the old senora with a new and sparkling reason for living. What she had to cling to was the fact that she was doing nothing for Marcus himself. As he. had pointed out, when the time came for ending the engagement it would be she who would emerge triumphant, not he. The whole thing was uncomfortable, and it spoiled any chance they might have had of becoming normal and tranquil friends, but there was no doubt of its beneficial effect upon Dona Inez. So what had Sally Sheppard to grouse about?
    Was she falling a little for Marcus? Perhaps, but it was only because she had nothing to do. And anyway, she felt more at peace with boys like Peter or men like Carlos Suarez. Marcus made her too aware of herself and her youth, and there was nothing to bind them. The most astonishing thing was other people’s acceptance of the engagement.
    Sally lay down under her favorite tree and dozed, and presently the headache receded and her usual composure returned. She sauntered back to the house, walked carelessly into the morning room and noticed that the newspaper dipping had gone. Perhaps he would sleep with it under his pillow tonight. She hoped it would give him nightmares.
    * * *
    It was not till next morning that Sally met the new house-guest, Josef Carvallo. He had arrived during the previous evening and gone straight to his room, and though mention had been made of him at dinner, there seemed to be no question of asking him to join the guests. When Sally saw him after breakfast next morning, she knew why. Josef, with a heavy white bandage about his head and a thick dressing gown belted about his slim frame, looked quite ill. He sat outdoors with a glass of orange juice on the table beside him, and talked to Marcus, who appeared to have been up for hours. Sally had been going to wave vaguely to them and go down the steps, but Marcus called her and came to meet her, took her arm and led her towards Josef