museum. Isn’t that wonderful?”
She agreed flatly that it was, and rang off. Her mother
looked up as she drifted into the kitchen.
“You look upset, dear. Did Peter object to you dining
with Mr. Lillitos?”
“Far from it,” Kate sighed. “He seemed quite pleased to
have a free night to read archaeology.”
Mrs. Caulfield smiled, but watched her with concern.
She often wondered if Peter were the right man for Kate.
They were more like brother and sister than lovers. Peter
was nice enough, but rather too wrapped up in his work,
and Kate was an impulsive, warmhearted girl. It would be
a tragedy if she married a man who could never respond to
her. Sometimes Mrs. Caulfield had a nightmare in which
Kate was buried alive, under dusty tomes, and Peter
worked on, deaf to her cries for help. She shook herself
mentally, and began to whip up a cream sponge. The twins
would be back from school soon, ravenous and noisy.
“What are you going to wear?” she asked Kate, beating
the mixture lightly.
“Goodness knows. I haven’t got a dress which is even
remotely suitable for dinner with a millionaire.”
“Your pink one is pretty,” her mother suggested.
Kate laughed at her. “My pink one, Mother, is the only
formal dress I possess, as you perfectly well know!” She
shrugged her shoulders. “But so what? I’m not trying to
compete with the glamour girls he usually takes around,
am I? It doesn’t matter what he thinks of my dress.”
Sam, putting his head around the door, grinned. “There
was a false ring to that remark. What are you talking