9Violet Featherstone moved restlessly about her sitting room. It was a very attractive room with windows opening out onto a balcony from which there was a magnificent view of the sea.
Wisteria hung over the balustrade in long purple tendrils, and from two ancient stone urns, which Violet had discovered broken and forgotten in some peasant’s garden, pink geraniums cascaded in luxuriant profusion.
The Villa was furnished with period pieces brought from England and there was none of the gaudy, ornate pomp which so many residents in the South of France thought desirable. Violet had always loved beautiful things. She had an inborn instinct for what was good, and Eric’s considerable fortune had enabled her to indulge her taste.
But today Violet had no eyes for her own possessions. She moved f
