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‘It seems awful to have to haggle,’ she said, as they entered the cool, quiet shop.

'Not at all. It is an act of trade and certainly not undignified, here in Mauritius,’

There was an immediate rustle of tension on the part of the staff as Laurent Sevigny entered the shop, jade watched him as he spoke to the people who served behind wide glass counters and glass shelves. He spoke to them in French. Glancing around, she saw that there were shelves of thick glass right round the walls and these shelves were filled with jade, ivory, precious stones, carvings, jewellery, porcelain, brass, bronze, wood and ceramics.

'So?’ He came to stand beside her. ‘What do you think?’

‘Oh,’ she let out a long breath, ‘it's just too beautiful! I don’t know where to look first. It's—it’s like a treasure house! ’

‘It is a treasure house. Many of these treasures speak of a bygone age. They have involved extensive travel on my part.’

‘I had no idea that such beautiful things were in here, as we sat in the car outside,’ she commented.

‘Many of these works of art were wrought by masters.’ She watched him pick up a hand-carved wooden Chinese
gyojya
priest, delicately tooled and holding a sacred scroll. Eyes of polished glass glittered back at them. ‘This, for instance.’ As her eyes rested on those tanned, well-shaped fingers, she found herself thinking that it was right and fitting that they should hold the exquisite carving.

‘It—it must have cost the earth,’ she said, feeling again the sensation of those fingers in her hair, her face, her throat....

'It did—and does.’ He placed it back on the glass shelf.

‘Do you ever make mistakes?’ she asked. ‘That is, have you ever bought something only to discover that it’s not what you believed it to be?’

‘No.' His green eyes went over her. ‘I never make mistakes, and I always know what I want and why I want it.’ There was, she noticed, a kind of anger in the reply.

‘Where is the white jade phoenix you told me about?’ she asked.

‘That is not for sale. It is at my house. Here instead is a white dragon.’

Placing her fingers on it, she said, ‘It’s perfect. Your shop is rather like a—temple of civilisation, don’t you think?’ She looked at him and bit her lip.

‘Yes, it is, and with you at this moment its high priestess. But no, that is not how I look at it. The treasures you see here are to be enjoyed, not worshipped.’

‘Like the high priestess in question, merely ... enjoyed.'

‘I am not exactly priestess minded,’ he told her. ‘This here is a twelfth century Chinese stone Buddha....'

For a while they walked round the shop and then he said, ‘I am taking you to lunch at a restaurant called La Potintere, rated by many as the best eating place on the island. There are rooms where one can wash and freshen up. I suggest a change of mood on your part, in order that you might enjoy the cuisine, which is superb French. A speciality is
sauce rouge de camarons et palmistes.
While we are in the process of this meal I do not wish to discuss either Marlow Lewis or Nicole de Speville and, while I am with you, I certainly do not wish to be reminded of other women.'

‘Marlow exists, nevertheless,' she retorted.

‘He exists, yes, but ;t is a logical conclusion that in the end you will choose somebody nearer your own age.'

‘And yet you yourself don’t practise this advice.' She gave him a level look.

At that moment a girl came down the staircase, which was to one side of the shop and which obviously served the offices which must be on another floor. She had a pale, ivory skin and tawny eyes. She was wearing a vivid green shirt which was tucked into black slacks and she was breathtakingly beautiful. For a moment the tawny eyes did not seem to focus properly, and then surprise and excitement crossed her face.

‘Laurent!’ Coming quickly towards him she said, ‘But I did not know this. For how long, Laurent? How long have you been back?'

Everything seemed to spin as Jade watched the girl as she went into Laurent’s arms. ‘I didn’t know,’ the girl kept murmuring as she moved her lips beneath his. As she moved her head from side to side her dark hair swirled silkily about her shoulders. ‘But I don’t understand,’ she said, when the kiss had ended. The tawny eyes went towards Jade. ‘You—you didn’t bring a—bride back with you?’ The ivory face paled visibly.

‘No, you are fanciful. This is Jade Lawford from Australia. She is new to the island.’ Looking at Jade, Laurent went on, ‘I want you to meet Marcello Fabre. She very efficiently manages this business for me.’

‘I’ve come here to be married,’ Jade explained, to show Laurent that the meeting with Marcelle Fabre was of little consequence so far as she was concerned. ‘You might know him—Marlow Lewis.’

‘Marlow Lewis!’ Marcelle Fabre looked surprised. ‘Yes—but only slightly. Where are you staying?'

‘I’m staying at the Hotel Chalian and working there, as a matter of fact. I’m a beautician at the health clinic.’

‘So ...?’ The tawny eyes went over Jade. ‘You work for the Comtesse de Speville, in other words?’ Glancing at Laurent she went on, ‘You have brought Miss Lawford to shop, maybe?’

‘I wanted to show her around,’ he replied. ‘I especially wished her to see some of our rare jade pieces.’

There was an awkward moment, then he said, ‘But right now we are going to have lunch.'

‘And you, of course, are at your chalet?’ Marcelle’s tawny eyes did not leave his face.

‘Yes. What do you want me to say ... that I am at the other end of the island?’ Laughing softly, he lifted a strand of her hair. When Marcelle replied in French Jade turned away and began looking at the beautiful items on the heavy glass shelving. Beyond the glass windows the arcade in which Laurent Sevigny’s shop was situated was a lively kaleidoscope of people jostling one another.

A party of American tourists entered the shop which, she thought, must surely be the most exciting shop of its kind in Mauritius. People who bought here would have to be millionaires. As they attended to the Americans the staff were unruffled and polite. A faint smell of incense permeated the shop.

Laurent and the girl continued to talk in low voices, then he left her and came across to where Jade was standing.

‘Are you ready for lunch?' He sounded annoyed. His mood had changed. .

‘Yes,' she replied. ‘If we
have to
eat lunch.’

‘What kind of nonsensical talk is that? It was our intention to eat lunch, was it not?’

‘I believe so, yes, but I thought things might have changed for you.' Her mind was moving ahead to the things she planned to say to him in the near future.

‘I am beginning to lose patience with you,’ he snapped. ‘Come along.’

Lifting one slim shoulder, her fingers continued tracing the eyes of a bronze Foo dog on an emerald and pearl pedestal and she did not look at him.

She caught her breath and then glared at him as he caught her hand.

‘You make having lunch with you sound like an order,’ she said.

‘It is an order.’ His fingers were firm on her arm as he guided her from the shop. ‘It is not far,’ he went on. ‘We will walk.'

While they walked her eyes scanned the shops, which all appeared to stock wide ranges of Oriental and Western merchandise and a great variety of traditional craft products, including wood carvings, articles made of tortoiseshell, seashells, horn, leather and basket-work. There was also Indian jewellery and Mauritian pottery and Chinese embroideries, silks, ivory and jade contrasted with rolls of vivid materials. Many of the shops had fascinating names such as City of Peking and all appeared to offer a wide range of goods from China, Hong Kong, Japan, Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia and Mauritius, judging by some of the price-tags. It was all very colourful and exciting and the man walking beside her was exciting—but something had gone out of the day. She felt suddenly depressed and bad-tempered.

A heavy, church-like door, adorned with huge hinges, led to the powder-room in the restaurant, and here, jade tried to soothe her ruffled feelings by washing her face and hands and applying fresh make-up.

They ate an excellent lunch and, although she felt peeved and let-down, Jade discovered that she was hungry.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Laurent asked.

‘Nothing,' she replied.

‘What
is
it with you?’ he snapped. ‘Nothing. Who thinks of—nothing?’ His eyes went over her face.

‘If you must know,’ she said, ‘I was thinking that the restaurant comes as a surprise, after everything I've seen.’

‘You mean, of course, with its vast fireplace and many pieces of gleaming copper? This would remind you of England, naturally.'

‘Yes.’ She was suddenly sad. ‘The crockery is staid white and bordered in royal blue with that band of gold.’ She traced a finger round the thin line of gold on her bread-plate. ‘It’s very British, in a way, especially with the royal blue tablecloth and smaller ones in white over it.'

‘It is a French restaurant,’ he told her, ‘but nevertheless you feel at home here, no?’

‘Talking about home, you’re a long way from home,’ she said.

‘I go and come as I please,’ he told her. ‘I have made this island my home now.'

‘You have a cold streak in you.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘Don’t you miss your family?’

There was an unmistakable shade of impatience in his voice when he answered. ‘I can see my family whenever I wish. I am an islander, but still belong to the jet-set.’

‘And of course, you’re not nervous in one ... an airliner, I mean. You’ve proved that, just as you’ve proved a whole lot of other things.’ Her voice was tight.

‘Oh?’ He drew the word out, and sat back and looked at her. ‘Such as?’

Jade checked her temper, which was rising again. ‘Oh, forget it. What difference does it make, anyway? Do you know,’ she went on with a rush, ‘it’s just struck me—I didn’t see one supermarket in Curepipe, as we walked here.'

‘
Supermarket?'
He looked back at her with angry astonishment. ‘But we were not discussing supermarkets. You were talking about me, as a matter of fact.’

‘I suddenly thought better of it,' she shrugged.

‘I didn't like what you said about me.’ His dark, sea-green eyes were cold.

‘I’m not asking you to like it, am I?’

‘I think what It amounts to is that you are not sure about me. Right?’ He went on looking at her.

‘It’s really of little importance.’

‘No? I think it is very important,’ he said.

‘You really do remind me of a corsair,' she told him. ‘I’ve read of the dazzling career of one of them. 'I can't think of his name, but anyway, he seized booty worth millions of francs. To the islanders he was a dashing hero. He eventually owned property all over the island and had a fortune in France. Does this ring a bell with you? And I suppose he owned women, too.’

‘No doubt he did, and no doubt he commanded good service. Are you quite through?’ he asked.

’No, I’m not quite through. I just want you to know that I have no intention of being
one
of your women!’ Her voice had risen now and she glanced quickly in the direction of nearby tables and bar of almost black wood, to one side of them.

‘You are jealous,’ he said, speaking with a deliberate, brutal carelessness.

‘What a stupid thing to say! I'm not jealous!'

‘Hah! Beware of the girl who says she is not jealous.' He gave her a scornful glance and began eating again and, as she looked at him, Jade was aware of an arrogance in him, which stemmed from the knowledge that she was attracted to him.

‘I don't know how I got into this,' she said, looking across the table at him, with hostile, angry eyes.

Lifting his lashes, he gave her another scornful look. ‘Because you are jealous, that is why.'

Finally it was time to reach for her bag and they went back to where Laurent's car was parked. She was surprised when he did not suggest going back into the shop again.

‘You are fortunate,' he said, turning to look at her as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them.

‘Really? Why is that?’ Her blue eyes were still hostile.

‘Curepipe is often veiled by cloud and drizzle.'

Already they were seeing sugar-cane which she knew by now grew right down almost to the breeze-caressed beaches. In places, the road was littered with sticks of cane, which had dropped from the trucks carrying them from the fields to the mills.

‘All Mauritius lives for sugar—and by it,’ Laurent went on, ‘in other words that means it supplies the daily bread. The industry is one of the oldest in the world, dating back nearly …' moodily she watched him lift his shoulders, ‘three and a half centuries.' Suddenly he reduced speed to crawl behind a cart drawn by a hump backed zeba beast. ‘These are the cattle of Mauritius,' he told her. When she made no reply he turned to look at her.

‘I am beginning to lose patience by your silence.'

‘I’m feeling—upset,' she told him, moving more to her side of the car.

‘So you are feeling upset. Perhaps this is because Marlow Lewis is away in South Africa when he should be here with you? But somehow I don’t think so. I will point out the beginning of Marlow’s plantation for you, very shortly. You will not be able to see the house—only the entrance and road to it, through the cane fields.’

‘I didn’t know we’d passed it on our way to Curepipe,' she said, feeling panic, laced with curiosity. ‘You didn’t mention it.’

‘For the very simple reason that this is a different route now.’

When he turned off the road on to what apparently was the beginning of a private road she glanced quickly at him. 'This is it.' He turned to look at her.

On either side of the road, and where the tall sugar cane ended, there was a vivid profusion of red and pink hibiscus. Laurent slowed down and stopped the car. 'You would like to see the house now? I can drive up there. Or do you prefer this with your future husband?'

‘Now,’ she said, after a moment, and touched her lips with her tongue. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. ‘Now, if you think it will be all right?’