window. Without turning, he said,
'Sit down, Miss Beaumont.'
'I prefer to stand,' Sandie said, adding sarcastically, 'Isn't that what
you're supposed to do when the headmaster sends for you?'
'Well, I'm no teacher of yours, thank God.' Flynn Killane walked to
the desk and sat down casually on its corner. He was wearing close-
fitting dark slacks today, and a white shirt, open at the neck, and
with the sleeves turned casually back to reveal tanned forearms. 'I
understand that's Crispin's role, and you're the eager pupil seeking
enlightenment at the feet of the master.'
Sandie's lips tightened at the overt sneer. 'I don't know why you
should find that so extraordinary. I can't be the first...'
'You're the first so-called student he's had the damnable nerve to
bring here,' he returned tersely. He looked her over. 'I see last night's
half-naked houri has been replaced by the well-scrubbed, youthful
look,' he commented. 'Just who do you think you're fooling, Miss
Beaumont?'
'This happens to be my usual appearance,' Sandie said icily. 'As for
last night -' in spite of herself a faint flush rose in her face, '—I was
not half-naked. I was perfectly decent.'
'I doubt if you know the meaning of the word.' The blue eyes were
implacable. He leaned forward slightly, and Sandie found, herself
taking a hasty and involuntary step backwards—a move that she
saw with chagrin was not lost on him. 'Let me give you some
advice, Miss Beaumont. Get back where you came from, before any
more harm is done.'
'Give me one good reason why I should.'
'Because no possible good can come of your remaining a day
longer.'
'But I disagree, Mr Killane.' Sandie lifted her chin defiantly. 'Under
Cris—Mr Sinclair's guidance, I intend to fulfil my potential as a
pianist, and justify the faith he's shown in me.'
There was a silence, and Flynn Killane gave a meditative nod. 'Tell
me,' he said softly, 'just how do you assess this—potential of yours?'
Sandie swallowed. 'I hope, one day, to be good enough to take my
place on the concert platform.'
He laughed. 'And also, no doubt, to find gold at the end of some
convenient rainbow.' He shook his head. 'That's so much moonshine,
my girl. You're deceiving yourself.'
'What do you mean?' Sandie flung her head back. 'And what do you
know about it anyway?' she added hotly.
He shrugged. 'In case you've forgotten, I heard you play last night.'
'And you think from that you can judge—you have the
presumption—the gall to pass an opinion?' She was shaking with
anger.
He looked faintly amused. 'I see that you've already been told about
Flynn the Philistine,' he commented drily. 'Come on now, Miss
Beaumont, I admit I don't play any kind of instrument myself.
Neither do I lay eggs, but as someone once said, I know a bad one
when I come across it.'
Sandie's lips parted in a gasp of pure fury, and Flynn Killane threw
up a hand to stem the indignant torrent of words before she could
give them voice.
'Not that I'd put you quite in that class,' he added. 'You play quite
well—but you're not good enough to be a soloist in a million years,
and both you, and certainly Crispin, must know that, so let's forget
the cover story of burgeoning genius just waiting to be brought to
fruition and get down to brass tacks.'
Sandie drew a quivering breath. 'You,' she said, slowly and
distinctly, 'are the most hateful, obnoxious man I've ever had the
misfortune to meet. You're utterly wrong about me, and everything
about me. But I don't care about the kind of vile conclusions you've
drawn. I know I've got what it takes, and vrtth Crispin's help, I'm
going to prove it.' Her voice shook, and she paused to steady it. 'I've
come here to work,' she went on. 'Work—do you understand? Not—
not to flirt with your brother. I have talent, and I believe in myself.
And nothing you say or do is going to make the slightest difference,'
she added with a little sob.
He looked at her for a long