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She slowly dressed for dinner, choosing her dress with care; a pretty blue dress she rarely wore because of its childlike simplicity, the bodice demurely sprinkled with very tiny white lace daisies, the skirts full and calf-length, swaying around her as she walked With her hair styled in loose waves around her face she looked like a teenager, she thought wryly, gazing at her reflection

Well, that should suit her er

Her e luxury hotel near one of London's parks Marie asked for her at the re­ception desk an

d was i in the doorway, Marie saw her lance one would have put her down as a woman of thirty-five, but in fact, as Marie knew perfectly well, she was in her late forties The miracle was accomplished invisibly Her make-up was carefully applied, her clothes expertly chosen Her beauty reical act of will

She turned, as Marie entered, a glass in her hand, and for a fleeting second Marie saw an unmistakable look of apprehension on the flower-like face The blue eyes wid­ened, thebrightly 'Darling! There you are!'

There were, naturally, so the sheepish look Marie always associated with men whom her mother took in tow But Clare cal, 'Darlings, you …' The smile which accompanied the words left the men bemused as they drifted away

'You haven't lost your touch,' Marie said lightly, brush­ing her mother's raised cheek with her lips 'How are you, Clare?' Her mother preferred to be called that She said the na'

'Hasn't James told you ? Poor Arturo… so sad And those horrible sons of his, grabbing everything, even my cars and my house All I had left was the clothes I stood up in, I swear' Clare looked tragic, her lower lip treh with tears

Marie glanced at the flat pearl studs in her mother's tiny ears; at the diamond bracelet clasped around that slender wrist, at the diaant black dress into which her mother's slender youthful body had apparently been poured so that it clung to her fro the delicate sway of her hips, the alluring uplift of her breasts

She vividly recalled the other jehich Arturo had showered upon Clare over the years, and suspected that Clare's poverty was by no means as drastic as she wished people to think

'I'm very sorry, Clare,' she said, however, mindful of her prorief…' then hoped her mother would not take the words as irony

Clare, however, was ready to accept her words at their face value, eager to be friends, apparently

'Thank you, darling' The blue eyes scrutinised her, approving of the blue childlike dress 'You look very sweet yourself I like to see you dress your age I thought, last ti to be very sophisticated, which doesn't suit the young, you know What will you have to drink?'

'So,' Marie said demurely

Clare ordered her a glass of lein, barman We don't want to overdo it, do we?'