Georgina walked to her bedroom window and looked across towards the hall. It gleamed1 with lights, a sight she was so used to.
Four years ago it had looked like that. It had been late summer, the gardens still smelling sweetly, alive with flowers, and Steven had taken her out to dinner. To her it had meant something, somemitment2 on his part, because he had been treating her differently.
School was all over and she was at college. He never came to see her, not as he had done when she was at school. With a flat in London he had always managed to be present on special days, taking her out with a few friends, but they were schoolgirl dreams and she had kept her feelings strictly under control, knowing he was a grown man and simply kind, her friend and protector.
At eighteen it was different. She felt like a woman and he treated her like one, courteously, gently. He had danced with her too, his arm tightly round her. At one point she had been sure that his lips had brushed her hair, although when she had looked up with wide dreamy eyes he had simply smiled an