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Derek took Sonya in to supper and she drank more wine than was good for her. It was then she found Sven beside her, calmly confiscating the glass she held in her hand.

'Too much will harm your skating.'

'Damn the skating!' she cried wildly.

He raised his eyebrows. 'Was I not right when I told you your heart was not in it?'

She sobered, looking up into his slightly tanned face in which the keen eyes were regarding her quizzically.

'You know it has to be, but mayn't I forget it for one night?'

'You seem to be doing that very successfully, but you owe your colleague at least one dance. May I have it?'

She was aware of Thomasina hovering and Derek glowering.

'I wondered if you'd get around to asking me,' she said provocatively. 'But I'm engaged for the rest of the evening, including the next dance.'

'You are, to me,' Sven announced, and putting his arm about her waist swept her out of the canteen on to the dance floor.

Naturally he was a good dancer, he could not be otherwise with his training. It was another waltz, a slow one, and he held her closely. With so much practice together they moved in perfect harmony.

'This can be no novelty to you,' Sonya said a little wistfully. 'I'm surprised you want to dance with me when we're skating every day.'

She was aware her heart was beating hard, as it never did on the ice, and her nerves were vibrating. It was a man who was holding her so closely, not a skater.

'We are not on the rink now,' Sven pointed out. 'And you are just the right height for me. I like to be able to look down into my partner's eyes. Thomasina is rather like dancing with a giraffe.'

'That's not very gallant,' Sonya rebuked him. 'And she looks beautiful tonight, doesn't she?' Perversely she praised her enemy.

Sven's lip curled. 'I am not partial to blondes,' he told her.

'Don't gentlemen prefer them? You're being hypocritical, Mr Petersen, you've danced with her all the evening.'

'I don't know anyone else except you,' he said plaintively. 'And you seemed to be occupied.'

Sven was not familiar with the club members and the girls were a little in awe of him, also Thomasina had boasted that he was her date. That had not occurred to Sonya before.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured, 'but I'm sure Tom made up for lack of introductions.'

'Must we talk about Tom?' he asked. 'The poor girl seems to obsess you.' A gleam, it looked like triumph, came into his eyes. 'Can it be you are jealous?'

'Oh no, of course not,' she said hastily, but feared that she was.

The dance came to an end, but he kept his arm about her.

'They are going to repeat it,' he said. 'We will stay together.'

She wanted to very much, but she was not going to admit it. Not after his earlier neglect.

'You're being despotic, Sven. Suppose I don't want to stay with you?'

'That would be unfortunate,' he said gravely, 'because you are going to, and after this dance I will take you home.'

'But the evening won't be over, and I've made my arrangements,' she protested, as the music started again and he drew her back into his arms. She had come by taxi and Derek would see her home.

'So have I made mine. You should not be out too late.'

'Oh, you're as bad as Daddy!' she exclaimed vexedly.

'In his absence, I regard myself in loco parentis. The devil seems to have got into you tonight, Sonya. I have never seen you try to flirt before.'

'I've got to start some time,' she said pertly, 'and I'll improve with practice, but I'm sure you were too occupied to notice what I was doing.'

'I notice everything you do when I am there.'

'How flattering!' But she did not like the hint of supervision. 'Derek is a nice boy,' she added irrelevantly.

'I am sure he is, but he is not for you.'

'Oh really, Sven!' she exclaimed indignantly. 'You take too much upon yourself. You'll be telling me next whom I should marry.'

'I may have something to say about that.'

Something in his tone caused her to throw back her
head to look into his face. There was a glint in his eyes and he was smiling derisively.

'I wouldn't allow you to interfere,' she told him, feeling oddly discomposed and wishing she had not mentioned marriage. She knew his views about that and he probably expected her to stay a spinster until she had finished her skating career, as she probably would. 'That's one thing I will insist upon deciding for myself,' she said firmly.

'As is only right. Has your father spoken to you yet?'

'Spoken to me? What about?'

'Then obviously he has not. If is something concerning my future plans. I would have preferred to tell you myself, but he seemed to think it would come better from him. He was anxious as to how you would react and thinks he can ... er ... soften the blow.'

Sonya went cold, although the room was hot. There were two blows that he could deal her, the first, that in spite of all he had said the news was that he was about to become engaged to Thomasina; the other and more probable one that he had decided to turn professional perhaps even before the Canadian games. The former would not interest her father, though he might deplore its possible effect upon Sven's skating. He did not know Thomasina, and if he did he would dismiss her as another of the incomprehensible girl-friends. Nor would the breaking of their partnership greatly disturb him. He had always had reservations about her work as half of a pair, and would be confident she would soon pick up her former role of soloist, with no idea of how essential Sven's support was to her. Sven had promised he would not leave her while she needed him, but had he meant it? Quite likely he would tell
her she should be able to manage on her own now after all the tuition he had given her.

'Sven, please tell me now,' she said urgently. 'I want to know the worst.'

'I promised your father,' he told her firmly. 'It is nothing very terrible, Sonya, at least I hope you will not think so. I very much want your consent and he thinks he can be more persuasive than I can.'

Her consent to release him from their partnership, it must be that.

She stopped on the edge of the dance floor, disengaging herself from his hold. 'Take me home now, please, I'll ask him tonight.'

'It is not as urgent as that.'

'I'm ready to go home,' she insisted. 'I ... I've had enough of all this, I'm tired.'

'Very well. Go and get your coat.'

She paused on the verge of flight, gazing round the room.

'But I ought to tell Derek and say goodbye.'

'That is all right. I have told him you will be leaving with me.'

Rebellion raised its head. 'Weren't you being a bit officious?'

Calmly and coolly he replied: 'I merely wanted to save time and argument.'

Sometimes, she thought, I could hit you, Sven! He seemed entirely oblivious of the turmoil of anxiety into which he had thrown her. She caught sight of Derek dancing with another girl and laughing at what she was saying. She need not feel any compunction about leaving him, and as she went along to the cloakroom it occurred to her that he might not be as deeply attached to her as he pretended. There was no one who really cared about her except her father.

She found Sven waiting for her outside the cloakroom like a sentinel upon guard.

'Did you think I'd run away?' she asked sharply.

'Women can be unpredictable,' he remarked blandly, 'and you are so impulsive.' He made it sound a crime. He took her arm.

'Thank you, I don't need any support,' she said loftily, and disengaging herself stalked on ahead.

She did not speak as they walked to the car and during the drive home. Sven was cruel and unsympathetic to keep her in suspense. Only her pride kept her from pleading with him for further enlightenment. But soon she would know, her father would tell her everything.

When they reached the house there was another car standing in front of the door, and as Sven stopped, the door opened and a familiar figure came out on to the doorstep. Doctor Travers, who attended Eliot Vincent. Instantly all thoughts of Sven and her problems were swept from Sonya's mind by a great wave of anxiety. She wrenched open the car door, crying:

'Daddy! He must have had a heart attack!'

Doctor Travers
was reassuring. It was only a very mild attack, he said. Eliot had taken his capsule and Matheson had only summoned him as an extra precaution. A period of rest, and her father would be as well as he had ever been, but both he and Sonya knew that was not saying very much. Eliot Vincent was living on borrowed time.

'I must go to him!' she cried wildly.

He was asleep, she was told, and he must not be disturbed. She could look in at him on her way to bed, but would she please be very quiet. She looked as though she might break into stormy tears at any moment and Doctor Travers eyed her doubtfully wondering if he should prescribe a sedative. Sven took her arm possessively.

'She will be all right, Doctor, I will look after her.'

'Good. I'll be round in the morning, though it's not really necessary.' He patted Sonya's shoulder; he had known her since childhood. 'Don't upset yourself, Sonya, he'll soon be himself again. Goodnight.'

As Katie Matheson closed the door behind him, Sonya rounded on her. 'Why wasn't I told? You could have phoned me.'

'The master forbade it,' Katie replied placidly. 'He didn't want to spoil your fun.'

'Fun!' Sonya checked a sob and turned blindly towards the stairs. Sven tightened his grip of her arm.

'You had better calm down before you go to him,' he said firmly, and piloted her towards the sitting room.

'Stanley took the drinks tray in,' Katie told them, referring to her husband, and guessing Sven's intention. 'He's upstairs now to be within call.'

The Mathesons' bedroom adjoined Eliot's, with a connecting door between so that his attendant could go to him if he rang his bell during the night.

Sonya submitted to Sven's guiding hand. The dormant fear that was always there that her father might succumb to one of his attacks had sprung to life. She felt shattered.

The room looked cosy and welcoming lit by the leaping firelight. Only one light was turned on, the one above the table with the drinks tray. Sven gently drew Sonya's coat from her shoulders and she smoothed the bright folds of her dress with a sort of horror.

'There was I, dancing, laughing flirting, while he might have died.' Her voice was full of self-reproach and she stared at Sven as if he were partly to blame for her frivolity.

'He wished you to go,' Sven reminded her as he poured out a stiff tot of brandy. 'It might have happened at any time, when you were at work or walking with the dog. Here, drink this.'

He handed her the glass and she took it mechanically.

'But I was enjoying myself ... it seems so heartless.'

'That was no sin. He wants you to have some fun. Drink up.'

Meekly she swallowed some of the liquid.

'But to be dancing,' she began again. Sven made an impatient gesture.

'For God's sake, Sonya, be rational—but then you never are where your father is concerned. It just happened that way, and he is going to recover. You must not blame yourself. Finish your drink.'

Conditioned to obedience, she drank some more, then put the glass down with a shiver.

'It's like fire,' she said as the warmth of the spirit coursed through her body. Her eyes had a dazed look and she swayed where she stood. She had had an exhausting day, her usual practice at the rink, the excitement of the dance, a rare entertainment for her, her mixed emotions towards Sven and Thomasina and finally the shock of meeting the doctor on their doorstep. She put her hand to her head. 'I must go to him and explain.'

'You must not wake him.' Sven stepped between her and the door. 'You must pull yourself together before you see him.'

Sonya did not seem to hear him; she shook her head as if to rid herself of the buzzing of a fly. The brandy on top of the wine she had drunk at the dance had gone to her head.

'You don't understand,' she said with the stilted dignity of the inebriated. 'I've got to make him forgive me.'

Sven put his hands on her shoulders and shook her slightly.

'Sonya ...' Her bare flesh was smooth and soft under his fingers, her dress was supported by only narrow straps. Some sort of explosion occurred between them. His hands dropped, one to her waist, the other across her back, pressing her against himself, and his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding.

Sonya had never been kissed by a man before except for her father's infrequent paternal caresses. Derek had never quite dared to do so, afraid of offending her— there was always an aloofness about her which discouraged familiarities. But Sven had no such scruples, also he was adept at kissing. His mouth moved over her cheeks and throat, down to the curve of her breasts, and back to her lips again. His hands stroked her back and sides, moulding her against him, his hard, muscular thighs pressed against hers. Sonya's initial surprise gave place to mounting excitement. Her pulses leaped and every nerve in her body seemed to vibrate in response to Sven's practised handling. The dazed look left her eyes to be replaced by a soft glow, and her body relaxed against his. When he lifted his head, she murmured wonderingly:

'Sven, you're kissing me.'

'Yes, and I am going to again. Open your lips.'

Sonya's senses swam as his hold tightened and his mouth again claimed hers. She who had been so disdainful of what she termed 'cheap necking' was completely overwhelmed. She was more than half in love with him, though she had not yet realised it, and she had always been aware of a physical attraction between them. The brandy had broken down her inhibitions and she clung to him, her arms about his neck, her fingers groping in his soft hair, giving as good as she was receiving. After what seemed to be a measureless space of time, while she was wrapped in mindless rapture, his hold slackened and he gently sought to disengage himself, but she refused to let him go.