RANSVESTIA

There were other people on the sundeck, soaking up the hot sun and sipping long, cool drinks. After more introductions, a babble of languages broke out as conversation was resumed and only the most cursory of attention was given to me.

"They've only been married a month," Romy spoke sharply to me as I was staring after the young couple disappearing below decks. "Brennan had lived with her parents in Vienna when he was a student."

I looked around at her. She was much more relaxed now, sitting with her legs stretched out on the chaise lounge. She altered her position slowly, with a rueful smile, as she caught my wandering eyes.

"He seems like a nice guy," I said, trying not to be too ironic. She got the message clearly.

"But he is," she snapped. "He's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet." She paused. "Did you really put him into one of your news- paper articles?"

I was surprised. "Aren't you worried about yourself?" I asked.

She snorted in disgust. "Print anything you like about me," she said.

"Unless it's the truth," I added.

She gave me one of those swift, penetrating looks, sheer astonish- ment in the glance. But the surprise was gone, as fast as it had been shown. "Exactly," she said lightly.

A steward came up the gangwalk and came to me hurriedly. "Mr. Lawrence's compliments, sir," he said in clipped British tones. "Would you join him in his study?"

"His study?" It sounded so incongruous on board a boat.

"If you would follow me, sir," the steward was gently insistent.

As I left, a young, dark giant, suntanned and muscular, took my chair and began to chat with Romy. I could hear her laughing as I swayed down the steps of the walk to the main deck of the Beau Sejour.

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