“The PAINTED LILY”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 80, Issue 263, 5 November 1937, Page 3

“The PAINTED LILY”

Romantic Serial Story - - by

Olive Wadsley

He felt queer as he entered the little house again; it looked, so much the same, there was the. same perfume everywhere, and there were the lowered lace blinds. He seemed to have gone back ten years as he entered the. same square little room with its tapestry walls, Its deep couch, its louifl-seize bureau and gilt writing chair, the enormous cushions on the couch, the picture by Sergent of Iris, the sole wall decoration. And Iris herself was standing under the funny little glass dome let into the ceiling, and the light was falling on to her hair just as it had done ten years before. "Oh, Ronnie,” she said swiftly, “I can’t bear It. It Is too hard. 1 had believed I should have had you to myself at last!” “At that moment Vai was saying to Holly, perfectly frankly: "Holly, I do love him. and I'm «o unhappy. “He’s with that Iris Warden, I know. Walt—l’ll find out.” ‘‘No, don't, Vai dear,” Holly said hurriedly. “Don't telephone, even if you do know he's there. It—it seems —I dunna, but that seems a cheap sort of thing to do.” "Does it? I don’t care,” Vai said recklessly. Lifting the receiver, she gave Iris' number, got it, and asked for Lord Sands. Ronald’s voice answered her. “Holly's just come," the horrified Holly heard Vai say quite lightly; “he wants awfully to see you. Shall we call at Mrs Warden’s for you or will you come? ’ "Tell Holly I'll meet him at the Club in ten minutes,” Ronald said curtly, and rang off. Vai tame back slowly. “1 can't help It if J am cheap,” she said. “Oh. Holly, this life hurls me all the while, and I don’t know what to do, and I am so wretched.” “Buck up, old lady.” Holly said gently. • I believe things will come right.” He comforted Vai as best he could, and went off to meet Ronald, to whom he did not explain, and with whom he had no pressing matter to discuss.

“What on earth induced you to let Vai ring up like that?” Ronald demanded savagely. In answer. Holly said, looking straight at him: “She's awfully unhappy."

He saw only contemptuous hardness in Bonald's eyes, wheeled round, and walked away. Ronald called him, but he did not hear. So Ronald called f f »r a stiff drink, and sat on. in the smoking-room, sipping it idowly. CHAPTER XX. For her dinner and dance Vai had a wonderful dress made of white chiffon, embroidered with pearls. _ She looked quite lovely, and for tne first time Ronald saw her as she had become. He also saw the very obvious admiration men, fur whom he had a great liking and respect, felt I’or Vai, the very obvious pleasure they took in talking to her. Vai dominated the evening, her youth, her sweetness, her beauty, her unspoiltnees, her eagerness to listen, her genuine wish that her guests should be happy, won her countless friends. Caro Mallinson went everywhere singing her praises. “You are very unselfish, my boy, In letting everyone dance with your lovely wife,” Loring said to Ronald. “If 1 had a special claim on anything so very charming, I do not. think I should practice your nobility!” And that was Lorn.**, whose opinion Ronald valued extraordinarily! Almost unconsciously, his eyes sought Vai, and found her dancing with Lancing Forester, who was looking down with her with entirely obvious admiration on his handsome face. “Dances well,” Ronald admitted to himself, and then, as Vai passed him, he saw her smile up into Forester’s face, and saw Forester flush. He felt the oddest sensation himself Just for a second. He could not have defined it to save his life, and a second later he was thinking what a rotten reputation Forester had —unless he’d changed, and from the look on his face a moment before that didn’t seem likely. When everyone had gone Vai and he met on the stairs. It was very late, nearly four, and the hall was perfectly still. Vai lingered a moment. “It was a success, don’t you think ?’ she asked. Ronald nodded. “Yes, rather." They walked together to Vai’s room. The door was open, one light was burning under a rose shade: through the open windows the night wind, cool and sweet, was blowing In. Ronald had a glimpse of soft chlffony, pale pink stuff, of a bed covered with pale pink too, of very small shell-pink satin shoes with white fur on them, and of a huge bowl of golden roses on a dressing table, where golden tortoiseshell gleamed softly. A dim memory stirred in his mind—hadn’t Holly, or someone, once said something about golden roses for Vai because of her golden balr? He asked, out of Idle curiosity, lounging In the doorway, finishing his cigarette: “Why d’you have golden roses?” “Those were sent me—aren’t they divine?" Vai answered simply. “Oh!” Ronald said blankly. He waited a little longer, looked absently at the roses, then at Vai, before saying “Good night,” and going off to his own room. A decorative, somehow appealing memory stayed with him of Vai standing beside the golden roses, of the daintiness of lhe room. The telephone bell rang. Ronald’s face darkened; he knew who It was. “Hullo, darling—yes—yes—of course 1 knew -your voice—l sound stuffy. I’m not, not a bit. Of course I’m glad you rang up. Yes, rather—ten to-morrow —we’ll drive to Marlow, and row down the river.” He hung up the receiver and yawned. Well, he was back in London all right. And everything seemed a bit tame. “Getting old, that’s it,” Ronald said to himself, with a half grin. “Things don’t seem as interpgtlng as they were; that’s a sura sign.’’

As it happened, Holly had arranged a little river party, too, to show Vai the Thames at Its prettiest. He had asked Caro and Pat, and Gyp and Ronald, who had refused in Vai » hearing—(“Got to go to the city to see nr* lawyers”)—and. when the party started, hi Vai’s big car, with a huge picnic hamper on the carrier at the , back, despite Ronald's absence, everyone seemed in the gayest spirits. Pat sang Irish songs, mainly of his own composition, all the way down the Bath Road; Holly, who knew- the time of “God Save the King,” because people stood up for it, Joined in freely, Gyp played his banjolele, which was his newest and best toy, and Caro and Vai laughed most of the time. “Isn’t It wonderful? Pat's got a Job,” Caro told Vai. “In Paris, on the Reparations Committee; he'll like that, and he'll meet men again he knew; he speaks French awfully well, you see, and he was liaison ofilcer for a bit —after he came out of hospital. 1 love London, and Fll miss it awfully and you, darling—blit I’m so glad for his sake. He’s sick to death of doing nothing and this Is a real job, and he’ll be, able, thank heaven, to use his new wheeled chair a lot, because it’ll mean committees and interviews and so on; interesting work, but no fatigue. We go noxt Monday 1 think, unless we I have a wire from some people to meet them.” “1 shall miss you dreadfully,” Vai said sadly. You’ve made London for mo, Caro—and you have been so endlessly sweet to me.” “I have loved becoming your friend,” Caro said simply. “Guess I’ll come to Paris, tool” Vai told her, lapsing Into American with a little, rather trembling smile. She alone knew how she would miss Caro, her unfailing help, her sweetness, her very gently given advice. Vai heaved a big sigh of regret; she turned to Caro: “ Let’s forget it for to-day—and, anyway, it's bully for Pat, I'm awfully glad about that.” The lunch was a wonderful success; Gyp and Holly ate a lobster each, and plies of strawberries and cream, and drank, what, Gyp called “troughs”, of coffee. “Gee, I feel better!” Gyp announced. composing himself for a nap, piling up lhe scarlet covered, cushions before his dark head: “As I am let me be; unless something really stirring happens, when you may wake me !” Vai and Pat decided lo canoe, down .'the river. They drifted lazily away, V&l paddling. hi silence they slipped along, Vai loving the scenery, the sunshine, the peace and happiness of the day, Pat thinking with happiness, too. of his Job, obtained at last. He broke the silence. “Heard the news, Vai?” “You mean about Paris? Yes. I’m awfully glad for you, Pat, and sorry for myself.” . He smiled at her, his funny, wisiiul, Irish smile, which had been so utterly care-free before the war. “You must come over. Caro and I’ll miss you too, Just as badly as you us. So come along and stay with us. W'e’ll be at an hotel for a bit until we get our flat, but when we do, it's a corker 1 —just off lhe Champs F.lysees.” “I’d love to,” Vai said. “I hate taking Caro away out of London,” Pat said suddenly, “seems so jolly selfish, but I've felt—since this messup”—ha looked for a second with loathing at his poor artificial feet stretched out straight!}'—“that if 1 didn’t have work I’d go mad—and Caro felt It. We don’t discuss things : any more, what’s the use? But, as you know, she's every angel there is, and she’s known all right. But now I’ll have a job, and she’ll be free of me for hours, just as any wife should be!—and then I’ll go back home and have something to tell her besides the racing news an’ what I lost at bridge!" They had reached a little island, a really fairy place, with flowers on the banks and trees casting deep shadow's into the river. “Shall wo tie up for a bit?” Pat suggested. Ho was looking down the river when he felt Vai start, but his gaze, his sensitiveness, quickened by his long illness, made him feel somehow that things were wrong; his eyes followed Vai’s, and he saw Ronald and Iris standing together on the Island quite unaware of any living soul being near themPat told Caro later, getting very Irish and excited in his distress: “I ought-ve yelled at them, of course, straight away; but, I dunno, 1 felt a fool and’ worried, and anyway, darlln’, how the divil was I to know that great fool of a Ronald would kiss anyone in lhe open like that? T wouldn’t ’ve myself, ns well you know. Rut there they stood stock still like a show, and her kissin’ him in a silly sort of way—all kissing looks silly when you see it, anyway. And, beside me, as white as a daisy, Vai. I felt goosey, Carol Give, you my word I did —my skin was all prickly. I said, makln’ as If I’d never seen: ‘What about getting back?’ and Vai, meeting my gaze, knowing I’d seen, said very quietly: ‘I think we ought to—now.’ So we went and neither of us said a word about it.” “Ronald's every sort of a fool, and a blind fool, and an unkind one.” Caro said, quite bitterly and sharply. “WTiat he sees in Iris Warden.” Pat remarked pensively, “the Lord only knows, an’ I’m not supposin’ He’s fakin’ any special interest In Ronald’s goings-on at the moment.” “Ronald doesn't see anylhing in Iris,” Caro said indignantly, “but she keeps on felling him how hardly Fate has treated him, and he likes hearing that. I-f he'd met her, and he hadn’t been married, nief, her now since he’s come into lhe title, he wouldn’t have married her, I’m certain. He'd have remembered ten years ago then; but as things arc. H’s always forbidden fruit people want. Pat, was Vai awfully hurl, do you think?" “Yes, I do,” Pat said frankly. “She was white as a hit of paper, as I told ■ you, and she stood up to it all so bravely. She was hurt right enough.” “Poor darling,” Caro said distressfully.

It was very late when Ronald came in, to find, to his surprise, Vai had not gone to bed. She came out of her doorway as he walked upstairs. coutinuea,’/ J