“The PAINTED LILY”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 80, Issue 253, 25 October 1937, Page 3

“The PAINTED LILY”

Romantic Serial Story - - by air ■ j. I '-- wx

Olive Wadsley

The lift had come up a?ain. Ronald ; put Vai in. and it slid down, past th-* landing where he had left Chick, to the ground floor. i He hardly expected Chick to have recovered, bul he was thankful when , they were in a taxi on their way io ! Hip hotel. Up was most grateful for ! the cool air. conscious now of a sharp | pain under his heart. Chick had j struck some pretty foul blows, but of course he had been lit . . . Ronald realised suddenly that Vai had never spoken; he said Io her now, “Tired.” She did not answer that question. She put another. “Where is Chick?'’ “I haven't an idea,’’ Ronnie said. J ‘At least. I’ve an idea, but it's prob- • ably wrong. 1- left him on the floor I outside a door where some people j called Moss or Moses carried on a theatrical agency, so they said in black letters on a piece of glass.” Vai cut into his small absurdities with a keen, “What do you mean, really?" "Well, really, Ronnie said, helping her out of the taxi, and more aware than ever of the sharp pain in his side, “Really I mean that your childhood's friend. Mr Buchanan and I, have had one of the toughest little fights in which I have ever indulged, and that, i luck favouring me, I put him out.” » They were in the lift going up to i their rooms. Vai said nothing until I they reached their own door. “I’ll het it’s a lot of fun to beat up a man only half sober,” she said, with biller calmness. Ronnie gave a short, angry laugh. The pain was bad. and moreover, he felt an odd sense of lightness. The corridor lights seemed to be dancing towards him. lie followed Vai into lhe silling room blindly, only faintly conscious she was ahead of him; by the door he halted. “I've had just about enough of this sort of thing, *’ he said thifekly. “Your behaviour, I mean. I’ve tried tonight 1o do what I felt was right—and it’s time, I think you realised that fact, and took on your share fairly. Today you have behaved, twice, in the sort of way no—no lady ever does behave: you were impertinent, quite deliberately, to a friend of mine, and' then you turned up to-night with that man when he was drunk; last of all. you accused me of having done a rotten thing; hit a man who couldn't defend himself. The last matter doesn't, count, it only concerns me. lhe other two incidents do count because one affected a friend of mine, and the other affected my name, whicn you bear as my wife. . "You needn’t go on.” Vai cried wildly, “that fact won't affect you long. 11l get free—it's easy enough - -and I’ll marry ‘Chick—he’s dying for me to. be loves me he—” Through the queer haze which seemed to be gathering in his brain, one thought stood out cleanly, the memory of Dixons words: “What chance do you think Vai’s got of making good, left to herself—’bout as much as a butterfly has nf keepin’ its wings unsinged in a furnace”—and behind those words others followed, Iris’s statement about Chick, a regular rotter. “I'll m»t set you free,” he said, more loudly than he knew. “I- gave your father my word and I’ll keep it. You—you've got Io learn to play the game, my dear —you— ’’ “And you'll teach mo, I suppose, ’ Vai stormed, “by going off with other men's wives to places you dor. I want me to go to because I'll see you! I toll you 1 will get. free, and I’ll leave you right now. TH not slay another second. Think you can boss me, do you? I'll show you. . . She dashed into the other room, and came back with a little black hat. crammed down on her golden hair. * sheath-like black coat, flung round her, and in her hand a small bag. Ronnie, leaning on the door, stared at her. Up smiled stupidly, and that, smile was like oil on the flame of Vai’s temper. “Think you can slop me by force,’’ she said, between her clenched teeth. “Gel. out, Ron, do you hear? If yen don’t, then I swear 111 fight my wav out.” “Fight.’’ Ronnie began. His voire trailed off, ho put his hand to his side, kicked vacantly at Vai. and slid to his knees, and then to the lloor sideways, his face upturned. Vai stared down at him in terror. “Ron,” she whispered, then loude.', •‘Ronnie.” He never stirred, nor opened his eyes. He was deadly while, even his lips were bloodless. Vai knelt down beside him. She was very strong, and she lifted the tired, heavy head until it lay against her breast. “Uh, Ronnie, speak to me—oh, Ronlie. what was it?” Her free hand sought for his heart she could not feel it beating. Utter .error seizing her, she knelt on molioniess for a moment, then, forcing herself to action, lowered Ronnie's head very gently, rose and went to the ieiephone. She had never been in a big hotel before in her life. She jumbled her words as she spoke: “111—someone is —here —ill—oh. it’s room—l don't know —wait, 1- don't know —yes —no — room 123. Mrs Sands —no—not Landis, Sands —please help—” She went on listening to the telephone long after the operator had rung off. n-p.n minutes later, a doctor entered, followed by a very efficient looking young woman, who was one of the hotel housekeepers, on . night duty. She stared keenly but quite civilly at Vai, then telephoned for some men servants, at, the doctor's orders, to help Io lift Rmiald on to the bed. “What is it?” Vai kept, whispering. Her lips trembled so that she could hardly tell the doctor what had hap- , pened. Amr then, relief of reliefs, Ronald opened his eyes. “Hullo,” he said, weakly, “what’s Up?” "I'll toll you in a moment.” the doctor said. He had slipped open Ronald’s shirt, and was touching him very lightly, very softly. Vai wailing with passionate eagerness for him to speak, watching his face for any least expression, saw it grow' keen suddenly, and a moment later he said: “Two ribs smashed nn your loft side—here—hold up—” for Ronald had fainte

again. Dr. Morris turned to Vai. “Your husband has two broken ribs, rather badly broken. I m afraid. He looked past her to the hotel housekeeper. “Ring up. Miss Daccy, for a nurse, will you?” Then he turned back to \al. , “Now—er —Mrs Sands, isn't il • Thanks—now, Mrs Sands, how did it all happen? Auto accident, fall, rid-ing—-or what?” Ronnie's voice, surprisingly answered: , .. “Very much ‘what,’ doctor; shall we leave it at that. Aal Vai went to him. “Bend dow n.” he whispered. Aal stooped so that he would whisper. “Sit tight.” he said, "not a word, it’s our affair, anyway.” Our affair. She smiled tremulously at Ronald, closer Io him in this moment than she had been since their marriage. CHAPTER VHI. But, unfortunately, it wasn t their affair; telephone operators arc not always domes of silence, or perhaps night club waiters are not: at any rate, every headline in New York shrilled Ronald and Vai's romance, as they, called it, the next day, and at all hours reporters besieged the suite. Inside, Ronald dosed, and ached, was warned about hemorrhage, tried to j forget such a thing could be. and fell generally ill, feverish, and down on his luck. He had waking dreams about Bully Dixon, about Iris, about Chick, and* he hated being looked after; of that he was definitely conscious. A’al came in once or twice, ano smiled at him. He tried to smile bac. M and not think about this affair having smashed up, not only his ribs, but hi.? chance of getting back to England. “How long'll it be?” he asked Dr. Morris, who “couldn’t say,” and who obviously did not intend to hold out | any hopes of an early departure. lie did, however, tell Ronald some days later that he had “tided over” the hemorrage danger, “ and you can thank your stars you have.” Ronald felt there was precious little to thank his stars about at the moment, anyway. All America and England, by this time, had read, that he had married Vai, who had. inherited a million. It looked worse in dollars 100, and every paper printed lhe tasty bit of information that he had been employed by Bully Dixon, and that his title, though an old one, carried with it very little income. He strongly suspected Vai—quite wrongly—uf giving the reporters interviews. Poor A’al had been crushed by his illness and spent most of her time cither waiting to sec if she could go to him, in the sitting room next door, or shopping with Lil, whq had “come up” in response to an urgent wire. Lil had been told about Chick; further, she had met that young man, with two black eyes, who had given her his version of the affair. , ~*‘Y*ou wait till that guy gets around again,” he said to her sombrely. “It'll nnt be fists I'll take to him next time. Lil. he's married the kid for her money, and you know it. And I'm mad, clean mad about her: I'd do anything to get [ her—it was only because 1- had io make money Io marry her 1 ever went away. If I hadn't she'd ha'c been mine now.” “I tell you she cares fir Ron,” Lil I reiterated patiently. I “She won't long,” Gliick said, pasI sionalely, “not her sort, she’s not the kind that goes on caring when a man ! doesn't. An’ he doesn’t; any fool j could see that. He'd left her that night to go off dancing with some other dame, and il. was Vai rang me up, and begged me to take her out. You ain't going to try and put it over me a man loves a girl he’ll go j off and leave a week after they’ve bin 'married! Jf Vai had been mine, I’d not have loft her for anyone or anythin; on earth, ami you know it, and I’ll sc she does, too, before I'm much older

He had sent Vai daily offerings of tin divinest Dowers, which she had, neve, acknowledged, and he bad written her notes she had never answere Ronald's “This is our affair” stayei. with her like a charm, in all the confusion and doubt and fear. The comfort of those words remained. h couldn't say that and not care—ii wasn't possible. He didn’t care as she did, of course; but he might, oh he might! | She did all she could, in those day when Ronnie never knew, to plea' him; she saw Iris AVarden every tim she came, most politely, and gave ha: the latest news of Ronnie, hating al! the while to do so, and feeling, desperately shy, and unfinished, as she toF’ Lil later. “That voice,” A’al said, “all soft and drawing—if that’s an English voice, I’ll never get it—Lil. And the things she says, bits of things, that seem to mean nothing, and can mean anything.” “Oh, you’ve got her beat, kiddie,” Lil assured Jier comfortingly. “Forty, if a day, and as made-up as can be. I 'shouldn't worry!” Ronald himself suggested Iris coming to tea, “to break the monotony.” So Vai rang up Iris, and Iris said* “Uh, delightful, I’ll drift in somewhere about four, shall I!” and camo at five, laden with while pinks. “You used to adore them so, Ronnie,” and to Vai, “There are borders and border? of them in the old garden al Charters, aren't there, Ronnie?” Ronnie was sitting up for tlic first time, looking not at all pale or interesting, but very spruce in bine pyjamas ami with no sign of a bandago “t say, this is jolly,” fie commented. “Goukln’l. we gel up a four nf bridge? Where lhe dickens is old Holly alt this lime?” "<ml in (lit City,” A’al said, unexpectedly. - f h a( i a initcr from him, lie's coming back 10-day, J believe, i He said I was to tell you he was sorry you'd been knocked up. Ron, but he expected you’d enjoyed, il.” “Delightful being!” Iris laughed, “and how like the poor boy who was killed he grows, Ronnie.” (To be continued.)