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such a dreadfully busy life, always rushing from one thing to the other. It can’t be helped, I suppose, but one ought really to make time for intervals of thought and recuperation.
    I’ve only been here half a day but I feel miles better already. No people. I never realized how much I wanted to get away from people. It’s soothing to the nerves to know that all round you for hundreds of miles there’s nothing but sand and sun …
    Joan’s pen flowed on, evenly, over the paper.

Chapter Three
    Joan stopped writing and glanced at her watch.
    A quarter past twelve.
    She had written three letters and her pen had now run out of ink. She noted, too, that she had nearly finished her writing pad. Rather annoying, that. There were several more people she could have written to.
    Although, she mused, there was a certain sameness in writing after a while … The sun and the sand and how lovely it was to have time to rest and think! All quite true – but one got tired of trying to phrase the same facts slightly differently each time …
    She yawned. The sun had really made her feel quite sleepy. After lunch she would lie on her bed and have a sleep.
    She got up and strolled slowly back towards the rest house.
    She wondered what Blanche was doing now. She must have reached Baghdad – she had joined her husband. The husband sounded rather a dreadful kind of man. Poor Blanche – dreadful to come down in the world like that. If it hadn’t been for that very good-looking young vet, Harry Marston – if Blanche had met some nice man like Rodney. Blanche herself had said how charming Rodney was.
    Yes, and Blanche had said something else. What was it? Something about Rodney’s having a roving eye. Such a common expression – and quite untrue! Quite untrue! Rodney had never – never once –
    The same thought as before, but not so snakelike in its rapidity, passed across the surface of Joan’s mind.
    The Randolph girl …
    Really, thought Joan indignantly, walking suddenly just a little faster as though to outpace some unwelcome thought, I can’t imagine why I keep thinking of the Randolph girl. It’s not as though Rodney …
    I mean, there’s nothing in it …
    Nothing at all …
    It was simply that Myrna Randolph was that kind of a girl. A big, dark, luscious-looking girl. A girl who, if she took a fancy to a man, didn’t seem to have any reticence about advertising the fact.
    To speak plainly, she’d made a dead set at Rodney. Kept saying how wonderful he was. Always wanted him for a partner at tennis. Had even got a habit of sitting at parties devouring him with her eyes.
    Naturally Rodney had been a little flattered. Any man would have been. In fact, it would have been quite ridiculous if Rodney hadn’t been flattered and pleased by the attentions of a girl years younger than he was and one of the best-looking girls in the town.
    Joan thought to herself, if I hadn’t been clever and tactful about the whole thing …
    She reviewed her conduct with a gentle glow of self-approbation. She had handled the situation very well – very well indeed. The light touch.
    â€˜Your girl friend’s waiting for you, Rodney. Don’t keep her waiting … Myrna Randolph of course … Oh yes, she is, darling … Really she makes herself quite ridiculous sometimes.’
    Rodney had grumbled.
    â€˜I don’t want to play tennis with the girl. Put her in that other set.’
    â€˜Now don’t be ungracious, Rodney. You must play with her.’
    That was the right way to handle things – lightly – playfully. Showing quite well that she knew that there couldn’t be anything serious in it …
    It must have been rather nice for Rodney – for all that he growled and pretended to be annoyed. Myrna Randolph was the kind of girl that practically every man found attractive. She was capricious