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Blaney may be plain, but she’s bitten by the bug and is probably as unreliable as all the rest of them.”
    “Perhaps that’s why,” Neil suggested. “With a wig and make-up and somebody else’s character, she probably imagine’s she’s lovely when she gets on to a stage.”
    “Blundering her way across the other characters and treading on their toes? No, I hardly think Sarah Blaney has much to recommend her as an actress. Her stepmother knows all the right people though and probably pulls a string or two.”
    Neil’s laughter came thundering over the wall. “Why do you dislike her so much? I thought her nice enough for a casual acquaintance. Not much to look at, but not ugly either.”
    “Unremarkable,” Robert said, and he sounded angry. “Except when she smiles,” he added surprisingly.
    So much for any illusions she might have been harbouring about Robert Chaddox, Sarah thought ruefully. Well, now she would know better than to think about him at all. In fact she wouldn’t think about him at all— if she could help it. It meant nothing that he had only to look at her for her to tingle all over. It had probably been no more than a figment of her imagination! Why, if anyone was going to bowl her over, it would have been Alec Farne. He at least looked the part!
    Sarah crept along the wall and made a final dash out of the orchard back into her own garden. She was too late. Two pairs of astonished eyes watched her progress with interest, as the two men leaned on the gate that was at right angles to the path she had chosen. She glared at them both, suddenly angry because she felt ridiculous and knew that they were laughing at her.
    “Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves!” Neil remarked, his eyes lit with amusement.
    “I-I d-didn’t mean to overhear,” Sarah stammered. “I was just here!”
    “Evidently!” Robert remarked. She thought he might have had the grace to look embarrassed when she thought of what he had said about her, but the grey eyes that met hers gave nothing away.
    “And you’re wrong! My stepmother doesn’t pull strings for me! I stand on my own two feet and I always shall!”
    “Then what are you doing here?” Robert retorted.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Not many young actresses would pass up a West End part unless they were sure of picking up where they left off.”
    “I hadn’t any choice!” Sarah said, stung.
    Robert had the effrontery to grin at her. “I believe you mind being called a Plain Jane,” he teased her.
    “Well, I don’t! Far from it! Neil was right, as a matter of fact. My undistinguished features are the best stock in trade I have. And if you really want to know, I’m a bloody good actress!” It was seldom that Sarah swore and when she did it didn’t trip lightly off her tongue as it did with other people. It embarrassed her quite as much as it surprised her audience and she coloured, her anger collapsing into awkwardness.
    “I’ll take your word for it,” Robert said in clipped accents. “I seldom go to the theatre myself.”
    “We go to the Marlow Theatre sometimes, in Canterbury,” Neil added. “Why don’t you get yourself in a play there and we’ll both come and cheer you.”
    “Because you’d more likely boo!” Sarah snapped at him.
    Robert laughed. “You haven’t much faith in your spellbinding talents if you think that,” he pointed out. “Never mind, Sarah, I’m sorry you heard us talking about you. You’ll have to smile more often and then perhaps we’ll change our opinion of you.”
    To his surprise, she did smile then, her anger completely forgotten. “I was already feeling prickly because I didn’t want to come,” she said. “The orchard was like balm to my soul, it’s so beautiful and peaceful, and then you spoilt it all.”
    Robert glanced at her sharply. “I’m sorry for that,” he said again. “It’s one of the joys of living in the country that I wouldn’t be without myself. There’s nowhere to stand