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since he was a youth, and it hasn't stopped him becoming one of England's greatest cricketers,' agreed the doctor. 'Personally, I think Emily's asthma is something she will grow out of. Meanwhile, in my opinion, Summer is an ideal person to have charge of her. They've established a bond of affection which you'd be most unwise to break. I'd go as far as to say that Emily is fonder of Summer than she ever was of her mother. You didn't know Lady Edgedale. She never struck me as having a maternal nature. She was very good-looking, and my wife thought her vain; more interested in her clothes and in going to parties in London than in spending time with her daughter.'
    'Not accusations which anyone could level at Miss Roberts. She doesn't appear to give a damn what she looks like. However, if you feel she's good for Emily, at least for the present—'
    Summer heard no more. The sound of their voices was fading, and she had recovered the power to move and was going back the way she had come.
    Still clutching the leather gloves, but with her errand driven out of her mind by the scalding humiliation of being called that great hulking girl... fat as a pig... an uncontrollable glutton... she walked blindly along the corridor; her footsteps making no sound on the long row of Persian rugs laid end to end, a lane of time-mellowed colour on the wax-polished floorboards ranged with seventeenth-century chairs, antique chests and fine lacquer cabinets.
    Halfway along, she realised she couldn't go back to the schoolroom. She had to have time to recover before Emily saw her. At the moment it was all she could do not to break down in tears.
    Fat as a pig... fat as a pig... the cruel words rang in her ears, making her cringe with chagrin. How could she ever face him?—knowing that he held her in contempt; that he didn't see her as a woman, only as a shapeless hulk, a great greedy lump of blubber who couldn't stop stuffing herself.
    Her throat tight, her vision blurred, she stopped by the huge gilded mirror which reflected the break in the corridor where a short landing led to stairs going up to the schoolroom floor and down to a lobby between the gun room and the billiard room.
    For a long time she had avoided catching sight of herself in full-length mirrors or shop windows. The only mirror she looked in was the one above her bathroom basin; a small rectangle of glass which reflected her head and neck when she brushed her teeth and washed her face, night and morning.
    Now, as she forced herself to look at what other people saw—her outward and visible persona; not the real Summer Roberts, her inner self—a low groan of shame and despair burst from her quivering lips.
    Because all he had said was true. She looked a fat slob... a mess.
    How many times had she told herself: Tomorrow I'll start a serious diet. Tomorrow I'll cut down on sugar... stop eating chocolate... peanuts. Next week I really will start to get into shape. Starting next month, without fail, I'll begin a whole new regime; no snacks, no second helpings, no eating biscuits in bed.
    Promises... secret pledges... New Year resolutions... good intentions. None of them ever fulfilled because, every time, she had lacked the willpower to starve herself. If it had been for just a week or two, she might have managed it. But not for the months and months it would take to dissolve the fat which had been slowly accumulating all through her teens.
    And now, all at once, it was too late.
    Today, when she wanted so badly to be slender and graceful, and turned out with casual elegance, she looked even worse than usual.
    As her chest heaved with suppressed sobs and she felt her control giving way, her ears caught the sound of hurried footsteps crossing the marble floor of the Great Hall.
    He was coming back! Perhaps on reaching the car Dr Dyer had noticed his gloves were missing. Guessing that, with his long legs and muscular physique, James Gardiner would mount the staircase much faster than he