Breathlessly relieved and excited, Toni Caruana scrambled in beside her, bringing with her a cloud of light French perfume, and the English girl reflected ruefully that no one could possibly fail to recognise the enormous difference between Toni’s circumstances and her own. Catriona’s blue denim skirt and white shirt blouse were three years old and looked it. Her battered shoulder-bag and low-heeled sandals had been acquired during art college days. Normally, her appearance didn’t worry her too much, but all at once, today, she felt shabby and dull.Tony was beautifully made up, and she was wearing a light green dress that did things for her creamy southern skin. Despite the fact that she was only eighteen her figure was voluptuous, and the skilfully cut dress did nothing to minimise her curves. Not surprisingly, a bevy of porters seemed to have been vying for the privilege of carrying her luggage from the hotel. Her pigskin beauty-box was handed to her with loving solicitude. Mildly amused, Catriona found herself wondering what it would be like to possess so much blatant sex appeal, then she pushed the thought from her mind.
