The million Dollar Doll

Auckland Star, Volume 55, Issue 1, 2 January 1924, Page 12

The million Dollar Doll

TfciO. aid GnOftlltomsOT

Gmchcton

WHO'S WHO IN THE STORY. TERESA DESMOND (Terry), lovely and unbelievably innocent, Is impersonating her beautiful half-sister. JULIET DlVlNE—known as the Million Dollar Doll—whose sketchy career is unknown to Terry. j MILKS SHERIDAN. Terry's "Drc-un l'rlnce." furnished the money for nor convent education when she wa? n Chin. His wife is makinc him wretched wltn her infidelity, and in order to facllltato her obtaining a divorce. Miles oners tne "Million Dollar Doll" UO.OOOdols. to take a yacht trip with him. Juliet is unable to take the trip herself, but working on her little sister'is gratitude to Miles, she persuades Terrr, who is an exquisite counterpart of herself, to take her place. BETTY SHERIDAN, Miles' wife, is deeply in lore with PAUL DI SALVANO, a handsome Italian. EUSTACE NAZLO, a wealthy Greek, who docs not know of Terry's relationship to Juliet, is ln love with the youuger girl. MRS. HARKNESS, Miles' old servant, is Terry's maid on board the yacht Her early disapproval of "The Million Dollar Doll* is swiftly disappearing under the Influence of Terry's chiltl-like charm. But Miles. "The Prince," is cold and hostile. He has no desire to he friendly with this notorious young person. In whom he does not. recognise the little girl he befriended so long ago. They talk for a few moments, but Terry fears he is making fun of her. CHAPTER XXXIX. The Religion of a Million Dollar Doll. "I'm not." said Sheridan; and suddenly it had become the truth that he spoke. "I do want to know. This is tlie sort of night— (though I'm pretty sure we're in no great danger) that a man's mind turns beyond this world. It would really interest mc to know what is the religion you thought out in the convent garden." (He didn't add, "the religion of a Million Dollar Doll"I. "Why—it's hard to tell you in a few i words," the girl answered very shy, yet not wishing to be obstinate, and refuse. "I—well, I used to say to myself: 'this world seems so wonderful and beautiful that it must be—a thought of God, or perhaps, in a way, part of God.' God must be everything I used to think. There must be God in every leaf; and flower—and so, of course, far more in all of us. "We must, be like beads on .1 string. T thought, with the same thread—that is God—running through us, every one. Or else God is the great fire and we're little sparks of that fire." Sheridan stared, frowning slightly, the girl was puzzling him a good deal. But he remembered Phillips' several warnings. She was evidently cleverer, and far more subtle in her playing of the game than most of the sisterhood. "If we're all sparks of the great fire — that is, if we have an equal share of the God-flame in us, why are some of us so beastly, or so unfortunate, with no hope of bettering ourselves?" he tested her theories. "Oh, I thought that, too." Terry went on, losing self-consciousness in her interest. "Of course, there's the life after this, where everything must come right. for those who've tried to be decent. But then, there's the trouble about the bad people! Of course there cannot he a hell, like one reads about in the Bible. "I can't mean for ever, no matter what they've done to us; and God's so much kinder than we are. But it would seem to make things wonderfully just, if we came back to this world in a number of lives, to pay for what we've done wrong, or to go higher because we've done well! At last we'd be ready for a glorious heaven, wouldn't we, when we'd worked everything out here?" "Where did you read all that!" Sheridan asked sharply. "Nowhere; it was just in my thoughts."

"Thoughts in a convent garden! Well they're not bad thoughts to have in any garden. I've no special religion myself. Not that I haven't had my thoughts— and some of. them weren't unlike yours. "If convent gardens bring thoughts of religion to young girl's minds, I'm glad I sent the prettiest child I ever saw to a convent school. Yes, it must have been a good thing for her! I wonder what's she's turned out to be? I've been reminded of her by"—

Terry's heart leaped. She had a moment of fright, but it quickly passed. She sat silent for a moment, listening to the roar of the sea and the straining of wood which her talk with Sheridan had made her almost forget.

"Where was your convent?" he flung at her suddenly, perhaps merely for the sake of something to say.

Now the girl was really alarmed. Could he suspect. Julia would be furious if he found out. Perhaps it might even injure Julia a great deal if -the trick (yes, it was a trick) should be exposed.

"If you don't mind," she said softly, " I would rather not tell."

Sheridan chilled instantly. He guessed at once that the fair Juliet Divine /had never been schooled in any convent at all! "Certainly you needn't tell mc unless you choose," he drily replied. "And I suppose I should be overcurious again if I asked how long you were there."

"Oh, I can tell you that!" Terry began eagerly, then checked herself with another of those blushes which showed up so under the supposed paint and powder. "No," she went on, "I'm afraid I'd better not tell that, either."

"Why should a lady give away her age?" laughed Sheridan.

Tbe girl said nothing. She had been afraid to "give herself away" as seventeen, instead of twenty-seven, which was Julia's age.

"Well," Sheridan exclaimed, "I've stopped below a good deal longer than I meant. I must go back on deck. We're one hand short owing to that accident to-day, and now and then there's something I can do. I had no idea of discussing religion when I came in here— except the religion of courage; but I've seen that you have that. There's nothing of the coward -about you." "I do hope not," responded Terry. "I can't bear cowards, even women. I don't like this storm, but if I'm brave it's only because there's nothing else to be."

Sheridan laughed once more, and looked at her with approval in his eyes. She might be a little schemer—certainly was, and she might deviate almost absurdly from that high moral code which she had just enunciated, but there was something of the true sportswoman about the creature. She had brains, too. And she was pretty— decidedly pretty! He wasn't sure whether it was conducive to the pleasure of the voyage, or necessary for dignity's sake, lo con--tinue sending such a girl to Coventry. . "If we weather this night all right, why—well see!" Sheridan said to himself, An<i aioixi be added* "U there's <6a

(To be continued daily.)

any real danger I'll come to you again. But I don't think there will be, so don t worry.' Then he was gone. Terry didn't worry. And the memory of those last words was sweet. He would come for her! CHAPTER XL. "Different." It was strange how the storm went down. There came no definite moment at which the pounding of the seas or the screaming of the wind seemed less loud. Vet at last there was a sense of being able to rest. Even the yacht rested. The straining ceased. There was a longer interval between the mountainous waves. Then the waves were not mountains, but high, sloping hills. And soon after midnight Terry went to bed. The next morning when she met. Sheridan on deck he didn't pretend not to see her as before. He even said, with cool politeness, that he was glad her ankle was well enough for her to be out; and after that he talked a Httla,, not suggesting that she should sit in a chair near his chosen one, but showing that she was not, as she had been, a creature lo avoid.

The day after that the Silverwood made the Azores.

(Sheridan did not land with Miss Divine (heiv were no acquaintances to shook), hut through his messenger, Mrs. Harkness, ho offered a. boat; and he had spent enough thought upon his guest to Miggest that Harky should go with her on shore.

To the girl who had never travelled fifty miles from Oldport until she -.yas seventeen, the romantic islands rising steeply from the sea were enchanted isles. ' .''he could hardly believe, until site trod the earth of St". Michael's, that beings like lieiself were the inhabitants; and even thou, they were not realiy like herself.

'Mrs. Harkness was surprised that she seemed untempted by tlie flowers, and bright baskets', and little ornaments of dried ligwood pith, which dark-eyed Portuguese children teased her to buy. But. blushing and apologising in French (which few of them understood) the girl refused.

"Wouldn't you like to collect some souvenirs, Hiss?" the Irishwoman asked.

"Yon know, this is the furthest inland group from a continent of any in the Atlantic Ocean."

Terry admitted that she would like to possess souvenirs—not that she had any home people who -would care for them. But she couldn't afford to buy things 'she didn't need.

This was a new puzzle. Harky had imagined that young ladies like Miss Divine were richer than they ought to be, just as she had pictured them wearing jewels at all hours of the day, and low-necked frocks in the morning. But here was this girl who refused ten thousand dollars, yet was too poor to buy a few odds and ends at the first iland they'd touched after a long voyage.

She owned jewels, but wore precious few; and she left her smartest clothes hanging in tlic wardrobe. The old woman could not resist purchasing some small specimens of native work, and pressing them upon Miss Divine, after the green peaks rising from a blue sea had turned purple in distance.

Terry hesitated, but seeing that Mrs. Harkness would be hurt if she refused the gifts, she accepted them with a childlike joy that touched the woman.

"Well, 1 suppose you had to prevent your charge from buying up the whole of St. Michael's," Sheridan said to Harky that night—the first time he had voluntarily mentioned his guest.

'"lndade, I didn't, then," returned his [old nurse. "It's my belief the girl hasn't 'got a red cent."

I Sheridan stared, but said nothing. He thought that Harky was being taken in for some minxlike motive, yet the words lingered in his head.

After the storm, however, a change came over Terry's habits, which was noticed not only by Mrs. Harkness, but by Sheridan. She began to appear in the elaborate dresses which, so far, she had left neglected.

Her motive for the change was not far to seek, aud the old woman and the young man. both read it, in different ways.

'"Because I've thrown her a few decent words, she's plucked up hope, and means to try and vamp mc," Phillips' warning translated itself in Sheridan's thoughts. "Tlie poor girl has screwed up a bit of courage, and thinks to make herself smart, after being treated like dirt under the master's feet," thought Mrs. Harkness.

Terry did want to look pretty in Sheridan's eyes! Not that there was anything to be gained, for the future; but it would be nice to sec him look kindly at her, as if he were pleased.

Thus far, even when his words had been kind, his eyes had not. He'd look«d at her with a hard stare from under those thick, black lashes of his, or he had turned away as if he would rather not look at her at all.

Terry thought it might be different if she showed herself off in the prettiest dresses Julia had given her, instead of sticking to the blue serge in which she :had come on board.

And she was right. It was "different." The slight stirring of respect in Sheridan's heart after their talk of the convent, and of religion, died and was forgotten.

But the approval roused by the girl's courage added itself to the reluctant admiration dragged from him by her beauty. He found himself thinking about Juliet Divine a good deal, and not ;in a way that pleased him if he analysed it.

''I don't suppose there's another man of my age who would keep a woman liktj that at arm's length," he caught himself reflecting one night. "She must despise mc for the ass of asses. Or perhaps she thinks mc one of those sexless brutes who don't know a woman from a snow-figure. Not much of a compliment to her, .my noble behaviour!"