“The Richest Girl In The World”

Pahiatua Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12952, 17 May 1935, Page 3

“The Richest Girl In The World”

A Short Serial (Adapted from the Radio Picture, from an original story by Norman Krasna and re-told by Allen Douglas).

The whole world, and all the loveliest things in it, were liers for the asking. Yachts, motor-cars, clothes from the most exclusive shops in Paris, jewels worth a king’s ransom—she could have them all. But Dorothy Hunter remained unimpressed by luxury, unmoved by the power of her cheque book. She was happiest just being comfortable. She liked to wear slacks and a sweater far better than she liked wearing original models by Lanvin. She liked to play billiards and tramp in the rain and eat hamburgers smothered in onions, and she hated grand opera and caviare. But she had a great deal to live up to, and—as she often said to herself—to live down.

The richest girl in the world! There was a title for you. A title to lure fortune hunters, a headline for the newspapers. She was like a goldfish in a bowl, a girl without a life of her own. She could never be sure, when a man spoke to her of love, that it wasn’t her stocks and bonds of which he was thinking. When she seemed to be surrounded by loyalty and friendship, she never knew whether she had inspired these reaction j or purchased them.

The first twenty years ot her life* however, had been different. The world knew little about her then, and there was hardly a poison who knew what she looked like. John Connors had seen to that. Connors, her father’s friend had come to her that morning almost simultaneously with the news of the Titanic disaster, and had stood looking down on her as she had laughed up at him from her cot. She hadn’t been able to fathom the sadness in his eyes, hadn’t been able to grasp the meaning of tragedy. John's face had twisted grotesquely. Sl*e had seemed such a little thing to be left fatherless and motherless—such a little thing to be the richest girl in the world. Alone in the world—this small, golden, laughing thing! It had seemed heartbreaking in that first realisation. But then, John Connors had been alone, too, robbed of the wife he had adored by that same disaster that had robbed the child of parents.

That day Connors had taken the child and had gone to Europe. As her officially appointed guardian, he had surrounded her with all the love and understanding of which he had been capable. He knew the heartaches that awaited her, and so bent all his energies towards making her childhood a happy one. Then, miraculously. she became a woman—and such a lovely woman, with eyes the colour of midsummer skies and hair that was fairer than all her father's gold. Soon she would be marrving. Connors’ heart had tightened when he thought of that. Not just because he would lose her, but because he might lose her to the wrong man. Yet now that she was twenty-two and engaged to Donald. John felt that things would not turn out so badly after all. He thoroughly approved of Donald, and Donald certainly seemed in love with her. Even though she was the richest girl in the world, with all the notorietv that term implied, she still had a guardian who adored her and a young man in love with her. and Sylvia.

A few years before she had become engaged, John had appointed Sylvia, an English girl, as a com-panion-secretary for his ward. Sylvia and Dorothy could not he fonder of each other now than if they were sisters. Even Sylvia’s marriage to Philip Vernon in England hadn’t come between them, and Sylvia had insisted upon accompanving Dorothv to America.

On the boat which was taking her to her own marriage, Dorothy had been secretly a little envious of Sylvia’s and Philip’s happiness. They had seemed so completely wrapped up in each other. Would Donald go on wanting her, Dorothv. just for herself alone? She had' wondered more than once. Or would he become dazzled by her wealth and her social position, and the fact that she was tho richest girl in the workl ?

(To be continuedi