The House of Seven Fountains by Anne Weale Page B

match her dress.
    “Miss Connell, I want you to meet Cara Maitland,” Mrs. Carshalton said as the men stood up.
    “Welcome to our cozy little circle, Miss Connell,” the girl said in a husky drawl. She did not smile and there was an unmistakable edge to her voice, either of sarcasm or hostility. Beside her vivid beauty, Vivien was painfully aware of how insipid her own fair hair and pastel dress must look. She was relieved when the men sat down and resumed their conversations.
    “ You and Cara must be about the same age, my dear. Cara’s father is the commanding officer of the army camp just outside town,” Mrs. Carshalton said when Cara was seated beside them.
    “Have you been in Malaya long?” Vivien asked her.
    “Six months,” the other girl said briefly.
    She fitted a Turkish cigarette into a long jade holder and flicked a gold lighter.
    “Do you like it here?”
    Cara blew a smoke ring and watched it drift upward before replying.
    “It’s like any other small town,” she said with a slight shrug. “I gather you’re not an experienced traveler, Miss Connell.”
    Vivien shook her head.
    “I’ve spent most of my life on the move,” Cara said in a bored tone. “After a while one finds that all places are pretty much alike. The climate and the hotels vary, but the people are out of the same old mold. It gets decidedly monotonous.”
    “Now, Cara, don’t vent your cynicism on Miss Connell,” Mrs. Carshalton chided. “At your age life should be a great adventure—full of opportunities and new experiences.”
    Cara g l anced at her with thinly veiled scorn.
    “You’re the eternal idealist, Madge,” she said coldly.
    “You’ll change your views when you fall in love,” said Mrs. Carshalton slyly.
    Cara crossed her slim legs and surveyed one silver-shod foot. “And to whom do you suggest I should yield my girlish heart?” she inquired sardonically. “To one of father’s dashing subalterns? Unfortunately, junior officers get such meager pay. I doubt if I should care for penury, however blissful.”
    Madge Carshalton clicked her tongue.
    “ There are some perfectly eligible men in Mauping, my dear. Dr. Stransom, for example. He’s very handsome and I believe he has a considerable private income.”
    Cara laughed. “Tom Stransom is wedded to his work, Madge. If he ever comes down from his high horse it will be to some earnest-minded girl who won’t mind sharing him with a pack of ailing natives.”
    She tipped the stub of her cigarette into the ashtray and promptly lighted another.
    “Although I sometimes wonder if our estimable doctor is really as aloof as he appears,” she said reflectively. “It might be amusing to find out.”
    “Dr. Stransom is a very dour young man who has a practice in the Chinese quarter. For some extraordinary reason he prefers native patients to Europeans,” Mrs. Carshalton explained to Vivien.
    “Yes, I’ve met him. I understand he was a friend of my godfather,” she replied.
    Both women looked at her with sudden attention.
    “Where on earth did you meet him?” Cara asked. “I thought you only arrived today?”
    “He was on the plane from London to Singapore. We sat next to each other.” The other two exchanged glances.
    “And having spent three days in his company, what did you make of him?” Cara queried.
    “We only had one or two casual conversations. He was reading most of the time,” Vivien said.
    “Yes, that’s typical,” Cara remarked with a gleam of amusement in her slanting blue eyes. “If Stransom were to be marooned on a desert island with Venus he’d keep his nose buried in some learned tome. The story goes that some girl ditched him when he was young and callow. Now he treats us all with a kind of chivalrous disdain. Poor you, it must have been a dreary journey.”
    “Miss Connell also met Julian on the way up from Singapore. It was he who brought her here this evening,” Mrs. Carshalton put in.
    “ Really? From one extreme to the