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haven’t got anything for you to eat. You needn’t laugh, Paul I’m sure he understood every word.”
    They crossed over a creek, jumping from stone to stone until they reached the other side where giant tree ferns grew. It felt cool and damp, and they were alone, so when Paul drew her into his arms she made no protest. His lips were warm and firm against her trembling mouth.
    “You’re beautiful.” With a hand gently cupping her face, he lifted her head and gazed into her eyes. “You’re as lovely as the flower bearing your name,” he whispered.
    He held her hand as they strolled back the way they had come, and once out of the shade, the sun burned fiercely. If she wasn’t careful she would end up as red as a lobster.
    They lunched at a guesthouse, on a trellised verandah overlooking neatly trimmed lawns. Beds of roses and camellias surrounded the tennis court and private swimming pool. Daphne sighed enviously. If only she was rich, this would be a delightful place to stay for a few days.
    “Tired?” he asked.
    “No. I was thinking what a beautiful place this would be for a weekend. “Thank you for bringing me here.” She smiled at the waiter who handed over the menu and tried not to ooh and ah too much over the exotic food. For once she wouldn’t even worry about the expense. Paul was wealthy. There had not been even a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he examined the menu.
    “I’ll have crayfish, thank you,” she decided suddenly feeling reckless.
    “Roast suckling pig for our main course,” he suggested. “We’ll have a bottle of your best wine too, please.”
    She was so different from his usual female companions. He smiled indulgently at the almost nervous way her eyes darted everywhere, like a child frightened it might miss out on some special treat.
    “Thank you, I enjoyed that, Paul.”
    He watched the way her dimples came and went, the dainty way she used her table napkin. Working class, maybe, but Daphne was a lady.
    “More wine?”
    “No, thank you. I’ve drunk too much already.”
    “Would you care to come to a party with me tonight,” he invited impulsively.
    “I don’t know. What kind of party?”
    “Just a party. There’ll be a band, the house backs on to the YarraRiver, should be fun.”
    “Thank you, it sounds nice.”
    “It’s three o’clock. We’d better head back. I’ll call for you about eight.”
    He drove fast, his hands firm and confident on the wheel, and Daphne leaned back. Hopefully she was enjoying this unaccustomed luxury.
     
    * * *
     
    Daphne dressed for the party in the only long evening gown she possessed, a gathered jersey in japonica pink. She waited in nervous anticipation, wondering whether she had been too heavy-handed with the face powder. Was her lipstick too bright? She didn’t want to look cheap.
    It was eight-thirty before Paul arrived.
    “I thought you’d changed your mind and didn’t want to take me out.”
    “Darling, I’m sorry for being late.”
    For some reason it hurt when the endearment fell so carelessly from his lips.
    “I got held up. You look beautiful.” He surveyed her from head to foot, and from the way his eyes darkened, she knew he meant it.
    “Thanks, you look extremely dashing, too.” She had trouble forcing the words out past a lump in her throat. In a tailored dark evening suit with a pristine white dress shirt, he could have been a movie star.
    Outside, Daphne caught her breath in surprise on seeing a dark colored Rolls Royce, driven by a uniformed chauffeur.
    “Is this yours?” she squeaked.
    “It belongs to the business.”
    “I’ll feel like royalty driving along in this. If you’re trying to impress me, you have.”
    Laughing, he dropped a kiss on her head. She blushed, but the chauffeur’s features remained impassive. Paul sat close enough for their thighs to touch, and she felt a tingling, excited sensation through the whole of her body every time he moved. You’re an ordinary working girl. When he