I shall wear demure grey dresses, with neat white collars. No make-up, of course. And good sensible shoes. I shall smile all the time—the sort of earnest, unmeaning smile that makes other people simply furious- and I shall say, 'Yes Mr. Imray' and 'No, Mr. Imray', and be an old maid for ever. That was Vicky Pallant's forecast of her life in the household of the grave-faced solicitor who had taken responsibility for her on her father's death. But time was to show she had been too ready to be pessimistic!

Log in to favorite or list