FORTUNE'S FOOL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19320, 6 May 1926, Page 16

FORTUNE'S FOOL.

BY EFFIE ALELAIDE ROWLANDS.

CHAPTER X. " Do you like him, Anne?" Miss Darley asked. Mrs. Smythe nodded her head. "Yes, I do, and yet sometimes I am not quite sure. I like him when he brings back so vividly a suggestion of his. father, as he does from time to time. But in spite of his prido in being an Englishman (and now lie never fails to assert that fact) there is a great deal of the East in John. I havo been pulling the strings and promised a post for him in the Foreign Office. But I doubt if John will over stick to work! Unfortunately, he has too much money, you see. What I am afraid of, Cathie, is that if he conies to live in London, with his good looks (he is very handsome), and with his reputation of being a very rich boy, life is going to be very difficult for him and for me. And that is where I am going to ask you

to help me." Catherine Darley got up and laughed. " Oh! my dear," she said, " how am I going to help you?" "By being John's friend. By coming io our home as often as you can. Of course, I am going to take a house. We must be well established; and I want to bring the boy in contact with Peter's people who are, I regret to say, not particularly amiably disposed toward him. They hated the marriage, you see. And I am rather afraid there will be no very great sympathy between ray stepson and the Smythcs. Still, one never knows! John has a curiously youthful spirit, and

there is something very sweet about him. He was beloved by Andrew Warren, # and, in fact,' he seems to be loved by most people with whom he comes in contact. I have "a friend in the Indian Office who has promised me to keep an eye on the boy. He certainly will need a man to advise, and, in a sense, to guide hi;,:." Then Mrs. Smythe said: "I had to come; to you to-night, Cathie, I felt it was far too much for me to work out by myself!"

"I am very glad that you did come, Anne," Catherine Darley' answered quietly. I " And you know, my dear, if I can be of the least use you have only to call upon me." Then she cleared away the suppertable, going backwards and forwards to the littlo kitchen. Catherine paused once, and looking at her friend, she said: " Justj a littlo while ago I was feeling my life had become so prosaic! You know, there is nothing very exciting about my work at the office. But all at once I find myself plunged into drama. The story of David Gresham and his mother, on the/ one hand, and your story on the other, give me a little thrill. For they certainly are not prosaic, are they?" It was evidently fated that Dorina Kenyon was not to be allowed to continue her selfish, useless, frivolous existence in an unbroken fashion. The very atmosphere of; her home had changed; she was conscious that a barrier was being built up between her mother and herself ; and there were moments when Dorina sat ddwn arid gave herself up to a certain amount of anxious thought; a very novel

proceeding! The attraction that Cyril Neakl had exercised over her was unabated. She could not define why she was drawn to this particular man; she knew of his faults, and she was fully conscious that he held by no means a desirable place in the little world over which she had reigned as a kind of queen for so long. Neald's bad manners were terribly difficult for Dorina to accept. She also realised to ,the full, that he was commonly bred (in spite of his connection with Sir Gregory Gresham), and also that he was vulgar and ostentatious. But he had a hold on her. This could not be denied. It seemed as if he cast a little !-pell over her; and this was what worried Dorina and made her furious with herself. She lis)d never allowed any one person to dominate her! Although she had been engaged to David Gresham, and had encouraged Ed'gar Batley to be a very close friend, she had always managed to keep these tvJo men, as it were, at her feet. It was therefore a new experience for her to find herself being worried about what Cyril Neald would think or say; to be Iput on one side, as she had been frequently of late while he flirted with another woman. And after that day at the Berkeley Restaurajit, there mingled in with all her thoughts of this young man, tlia recollection of David Gresham talking so -pleasantly w&h Catherine D.rrley.

Sometimes Dorina would say to herself passionately, she would like to, change the whole of her life; She would like to slip away from the usual routine, turn her back on the night clubs, the dancing, the theatres and dinners, and go out to find some new existence. And in such moments she would tell herself that she wished with all her heart that Cyril Neald were different! That it might Hiave been possible to find in him some one who would have carried her off to the far parts of the earth, loving her, protecting her, and bringing her in contact with new elements and iiewi sen-

sations. / Then she would remember how, on more than tone occasion, David had talked of taking her to California, and how she had declared, with a shiver, that nothing would have induced her. to go so far, lhat England was quite enough for her, and that, London was the one place m the world where she wanted to be! She remembered these tilings now with a pang

of regret. The absence of her sister Pamela from ."the house, too, irritated Dorina. '"never asked her mother any questions about her sister; she pretended a supreme indifference. As a matter of fact, she was consumed with a great curiosity to know what Pamela was doing; where she was living, and if it were true that the had' a chance of appearing on, the stage. And then all at once she realised she was Seeing less and Jess of Edgar Batley! So, one day (when she learnt to her dismay that Cyril Neald had gone over to Paris suddenly, for what reason she did not know), she thought it would be ;i good thing to ring up Edgar Batley arid propose he should take her out that evening. / It was naturally a surprise, and in a sense a blow, to Dorina. Kenyon to be told by Edgar Batlej'. that he was very sorry but that he was already engaged. The man had been such a devoted admirer, had borne with so many snubs, had /been so impervious when Dorina did

Hot seem to care for him, that the know- > ledge that she had lost so important and BO valuable a friencl was a "very disagreeable experience. It was ;i new outlook, too. for Dorina not to have- any evening engagement arranged. But as Cyril was not in London,

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and Edgar Batley not available, with a shrug of her shoulders she told herself that she would have one quiet night. So sho went downstairs and informed her mother that she was going to dine at home. Mrs. Kenyon was seated at "her writingtable. She turned round, looked at her daughter, and then said: " Cook is out to-night, and as I never imagined, for a moment, that you would be in, I told Susan that she could have the evening off, too. I am Afraid that there is no" one to get you any food." Dorina lost her temper. "A nice way this house is run! It seems very queer to me that one can't have a bit of dinner when one wants it!" " This is the first time in many months that you have suggested that you wanted to dine at home," her mother replied. Dorina lit a cigarette and threw herself into .1 chair. " Well, I suppose you arc going to have some dinner? " " I am dining out," Mrs. Kenyon said quietly. " Pamela and I are going to the Savoy with Edgar." So that was Edgar Bailey's engagement !

Dorina turned very red and then very pale. " I congratulate you, mother," she said ironically and yet with anger. " You aro certainly a very clever woman!"

To which her mother replied quietly: " Thank you, my dear, I believe I am. At least, I am not likely to make the terrible mistakes you are making! " Dorina sprang to her feet and threw her cigarette into the fireplace. " Why do you say that to me, mother ? Why are you always hinting at things? If I am such a terrible failure, wash your hands of me! God knows I don't want to stay in this dirty little hole any longer! " There was a little pause, and then Mrs. .'ivetivon said:

" This ' dirty little hole * as you call it will not be available for me, or for you, very much longer. The expenses are far too high for me, so I am letting the house for the coming season and I am going to live with Pamela." " Oh! " gaid Dorina, and then she added with a nasty note in her voice: " And I suppose Edgar has put his flat at your disposal ? " "No," said her mother calmly. "Pamela and I are going to share a very modest little place lhat she has found in Chelsea. It is a flat in what are little more than artisans' dwellings. But with the salary the child is earning, and the. little 1 can add to it, we hope to be able, at least, to be comfortable. And there will be a ;in:i 11 room for Clare, who must nou leave her school and do something to earn her living." " This is all very nice for me," said Dorina Kenyon. She spoke in a strained voice: she was. trembling with anger and another sensation she did not pause to define. " What am I going to do ? What am I to do? Am I to go to the artisan dwelling, too ? "I am afraid, Dorina. you will have to think out your own future, , Till .now 1 have done everything I could for you; I have warned you. I have advised you. I have tried to guide you. You are old enough to choose your own role. You will have enough money to live on, because I am going to moke over ,'o you ;t small income your father's uncle left to me a few years ago. I still have a little money from your father's estate: and Pamela arid I together will be able to manage splendidly." " I see," said Dorina, with a sneer, " and always with Edgar in the background, is that not so? " I hope," said Mrs. Kenyon very distinctly. " that we shall keep Edgar Batley's friendship. But if you think that he is going to finance us you &re very wrong! To begin with, f think Edgar has far too much respect for your sister Pamela! You see, having been a worker himself, and having risen to what he is through his work, he, admires Pamela for starting out and being independent." Then Mrs. Kenyon closed her blottingpad and got up. " I shall see what I can arrange for your dinner," she said.

But at. that moment the telephone rang, and as Dorina answered it, she laughed. " Yes, 1 sh?dl be delighted,", she said. "Will you call .for rue? Come at fight o'clock. That's -all' right."

Then as she put the receiver back she said defiantly to her mother: " Thanks very much, I shall not want you to cook anything for me. lam going out to dinner. Perhaps you will let me know to-morrow how soon you expect me to move from here? I shall have to find some place if this house is going to be sub-let.",

" Your father's sister. Mrs. Lethbridge, is in town. She was speaking to me this morning on the telephone, and she left a. message for you :' she will be delighted if you will stay with her through the season. I told her that I thought it very probable that you would accept, but that I would leave it to vou to settle yourself."

Dorina made a grimace. " Oh! Aunt Lethbridge!" she said, and gave a little hard laugh. " I wonder why she'wants to have me? We have never got on very well together." " Well," said her mother, in the same calm way, " you need not go to her if yon can make other arrangements that will be more pleasant for you. - Dorina lost-'lier temper at this, and she turned on her mother. " Don't be ridiculous," she said sharply. " Yon know perfectly well if I can't stay with you, I must go to someone like Aunt Lethbridge! I think you might have told me, mother, that you intended to get cut of this honse! As a matter of fact, I had an offer from those American people, the Vansteynes, to stay with them for a month or two this season. 1 turned down the offer because I thought you would prefer that I should stay with you: evidently, I made a great mistake, I never thought you would turn against.me, mother," Mrs. Kenyon was standing staring into the fire.

" I have not turned against you, Dorina. lam only very tired. For a long time I have blinded myself to certain truths. . . .

I put you in the first place in my life, in my thoughts. I had planned for you; I worked for you : I suffered for you. It is only of late, "in the last month or so, that I have awakened to the reality that, I stood literally for nothing in your estimation, and that you had no more affection for me than you had for an old pair of shoes! And then when Pamela put her views in front of ine 1 saw how wrong I had been to her, to your sister Clare, to myself, and even to you. I cannot make any change in our 'plans now. I have given my promise to Pamela to live with her, and I must keep my word. But later on, if you find vou don't get on with your aunt, or if lifti is difficult for you in any way, you must turn to me, my dear, and I will see what I can do."

" Thank you," said Dorina. Siio was totally unmoved by all her mother said to her, she spoke with a sneer, and she cut short any further discussion by walking upstairs again, shutting »ierseif up in her room, and closing the door with a bung. < , ■ Certain things that her mother had said (/, her, and, above all, tho fact that Mrs. Kenyon had in a certain sense put lier aside, made a very disagreeable inpression upon Dorino. As she got out. of her expensive and fashionable clothes, she threw a dressinggown' about her, and huddling herself up in an ann-chair in front of the fire, she found she was crying . a little. Mrs. thought suddenly came to bur that her mother had been right—-she had made some terrible mistakes! And at this moment the recollection of the, love David Gresham had given her, all his care, his gentle thought, his desire for her comradeship, his enthusiasm for his literary w>ik, seemed to her like a dream—a wonderful dream —which, being utterly lost, possessed a charm, a ( beauty, a spell, as it were, which caught her heart and her imagination, and awakened in her longings which she knew now would never be satisfied ! (To be continued daily.)