Empty

Come to think of it—he steered the Bentley round a roundabout—he hadn’t taken a female companion there for ages, although it had not been so much the lack of females to escort around. No, there had been a plethora of upmarket social events on his calendar, and several perfectly groomed, expensively dressed, perfumed women on his arm, one at a time naturally, to share them with him, but looking back had it all seemed curiously—empty?

Which raised the question—was the way that Irene Josephine seemed to be beckoning him an indication he was tired of the high life or perhaps specifically ‘glamorous, sophisticated women of the world’—to quote Miss Josephine herself.

He frowned suddenly because that, of course, led him straight back to the thorny question of one particular sophisticated, glamorous woman of the world…

But although Irene was not privy to Murad Fullbuster’s rather surprising train of thought, she was still puzzled as she closed her front door on the wet night.

What had she sen