The golden sunshine was glittering on the deep azure blue of the Mediterranean and far out to sea the faint haze over the horizon made it shimmer where the sky met the sea.
On the hills behind Cannes, the trees were verdant and the gardens were ablaze with the summer flowers.
Carlotta lay on her balcony alone and a large green-and-white umbrella protected her head from the sun, but her neck and arms were bare and her dress was cut low at the back.
In the past few days she had begun to brown slowly, her skin taking on a faintly golden hue as though it had become impregnated with the radiant sunshine that suffused everything.
Carlotta did not look happy. Her eyes were looking tired and dark-rimmed and her mouth drooped at the corners.
It was Norman who had suggested that she should rest
