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down that I noticed the similarity.”
    “You said you used to know Margo.” Lorna decided this was a good opportunity to find out exactly what had happened between them, see if he had any idea of the hurt he had inflicted. “What’s happened to her?”
    His eyes glinted wickedly. “Surely you can answer that question for yourself?”
    Lorna looked at him in sudden suspicion. Did he know that they were sisters? Was he trying to force her to admit it? But his next words proved he had no idea of her true identity.
    “You profess to know so much about me,” he said smoothly, “didn’t the papers get hold of that story?”
    Lorna shrugged. “I really wouldn’t know. I became so bored reading about your different affairs that I didn’t bother after the first dozen or so.” It was petty, she knew, but an instinct to hurt drove her on. “It was always the same old story. Off with the old love, on with the new.”
    His eyes hardened, confirming that Lorna had touched a sore spot, but she was totally unprepared for his next move. He caught her roughly by the shoulders and shook her hard. “I don’t like people talking like that about me. Especially when it’s not true. Understand?”
    “Let go!” hissed Lorna. “Take your hands off me. It’s the truth as far as I see it.” She looked wildly about, wishing Wes would hurry up and return.
    “Well, I’m telling you it—is—not—true.” He emphasised each word with a further shake until Lorna felt as limp as a rag doll and was forced to lean against the rail for support. “Now do you believe me?”
    Lorna shook her head. How could she believe him when her own sister was living proof of his infidelity? She closed her eyes as his face drew menacingly close, bracing herself, quite sure that he was going to strike. Then suddenly she was free. She heard a sickening thud and saw Ashley sprawled on the deck. Wesley stood over him rubbing his knuckles. “Try that again,” he said, “and I’ll report you to the Captain. Come on, Lorna, let’s go inside. Looks like I came just in time.”
    “Oh, Wes,” Lorna cried. “What have you done?” Much as she despised the other man it had been her own fault that he had acted so violently and she was horrified to see him lying there.
    “Saved you from a brutal attack,” raising his eyebrows at her worried tones.
    "But it was my own fault—I provoked him. Oh, I wish you hadn’t!” Lorna wrung her hands together despairingly.
    He looked at her, puzzled, and then they both turned and watched Ashley rise, rubbing his jaw ruefully, then moving it from side to side to make sure nothing was broken.
    “You certainly pack a punch,” he said to Wesley. "But was it really necessary?” To Lorna's relief there was no aggression in his voice. In fact he was taking the whole matter admirably considering Wes had interfered in what was after sill a private discussion.
    "Apparently not,” smiled Wes grimly. "Lorna’s just told me she deserved your treatment, although I must say it looked mighty suspicious.”
    Ashley looked incredulously at Lorna. “You said that?”
    "We—ell, I was rather rude,” she admitted, "even though I still think I’m right.” These last words were said defiantly as if she was afraid he might think she had changed her mind.
    His face, which had softened when he thought she was apologising, became hard again. “I can see you’ll always regard me as a bad lot. I think it’s time I retired before I do something I’ll regret. I’ve never been guilty of hitting a woman—but there’s a first time for everything—and you’re going the right way about it, young lady. You may look like Margo Tremayne, but you certainly don’t behave like her. Goodnight to you both.” He turned and disappeared immediately into the darkness.
    For some inexplicable reason Ashley’s discomfiture made Lorna feel guilty. Why, she could not imagine; it was not as though she even liked the man. “I think I’ll go to bed