Yet everywhere Carol, who had been given so much, was haunted by the lack of something precious -- the love of the man who had married her out of compassion, to save her from a life of poverty and hardship. What was she to do? How could she convince him that she was not a frail child but a woman capable of loving and being loved, of sharing his life and turning his house into a home? “WELL, goodbye, old thing! I hope you’ll enjoy the hols. Sorry I couldn’t wait to see him, but I expect he’ll turn up any moment now!” Carol Inglis waved goodbye automatically as the last of her friends was whirled away down the avenue of limes. The big shining car was the very last word in ostentatious elegance, and Janet Aintree, waving farewell out of the rear window, looked as smugly self-satisfied as her parents seated one on either side of her behind their well-dressed chauffeur. Janet was wearing the daring little hat and the jauntily cut suit she had bought when she went shopping with Mademoiselle the previous week, and she was flaunting her new bright red lipstick.
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