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been more than fraternal, but even she was not so naive that she did not suspect his feelings were more than brotherly. Thomasina rose from her chair, leaving her salad half eaten. 'So long,' she said, and made for the bar and her new prey. Sonya leaned towards Derek and said in a low voice:
    'Don't spoil it, Derek. I value you as a friend, but I am dedicated to skating and I can't afford to fall in love.'
    She was sure she could never give Derek more than the affection she felt towards an elder brother, but that she could not tell him. Intuitively she knew that such an admission would hurt him, and she hoped that she was warning him in time.
    Derek wistfully surveyed her heart-shaped face, framed by her black curls, and the limpid grey eyes, that sometimes appeared almost violet, raised to his appealingly, eyes in which passion had never been kindled. She seemed as sexless and elusive as a sylph, and indeed when he had watched her skimming over the ice she looked like an elfin being. He sighed.
    'You're not immune, he told her gruffly. His eyes went to her beautiful mouth with its full lower lip. It was a mouth formed for kissing and not that of a nun ... or a dedicated skater. 'One day you'll fall heavily, skating or no skating, and I hope for your sake it won't be for a heel like Sven Petersen.'
    Sonya was about to protest vigorously against such a slur upon the skater whom he had not even met, but she checked herself. Derek was much more worldly-wise than she was, who had been totally shielded from the seamy side of life. He might have gleaned some information about Sven that he did not want to reveal to her as being unfit for her ears. Secretly she was ashamed of her inexperience and wished heartily that her father had permitted her to lead a normal life and have a conventional education. Often the forthright conversations she overheard at the club made her blush and a lot of their bawdy jokes were unintelligible to her. She said slowly:
    'I wish I knew less about skating and more about people.'
    Derek bit back a retort that her father was to blame for that. Sonya's loyalty would not permit any criticism of him from others. He wondered if Eliot Vincent had any idea of what he had done to his daughter. Probably not; the man was a fanatic and Sonya was his victim.
    Jan van Goort came into the canteen and, locating them, came to their table. He was beaming. .
    'It is all right, Sonya,' he told her. 'I have spoken to Mynheer Vincent on the telephone and he gives his consent for this once. You may stay to watch Mynheer Petersen skate.'
    'Show-off!' Derek muttered.
    Jan looked pained. 'There you wrong him, Mynheer Barnes. He gives his consent most reluctantly, but the manager, he is most insistent. There will be a collection for a good cause and because everyone will be most pleased, much money will be taken. It is for this reason that Sven Petersen agree to skate.' He dropped a fatherly hand upon Sonya's shoulder. 'I too am much pleased that my pupil has this chance to see the best skater in the world.'
    After this build-up, Sonya took her seat at the rink-side with some anticipation, and when the slim dark figure flashed across the ice, her heartbeats quickened.
    Sven Petersen possessed a supple, compact body, beautifully proportioned. He was not very tall, that would have been a disadvantage, about a head taller than herself. Wearing a black cat-suit, every lithe sinew was defined. He was very fair, his hair shone almost white in the artificial light, and as he skimmed gracefully over the ice, Sonya was reminded of Mercury, messenger of the gods, and almost expected to see wings attached to his heels. He ended with a complicated series of spins, sinking to his heels and rising again to bow to the assembled company. Sonya was sitting in the front row behind the barrier, and he finished directly in front of her. She was near enough to note the satirical curl of his fine mobile mouth and sensed he was contemptuous of his