i f6c06dd9cf3fe221 by Unknown (the false prince .TXT) 📕

Then he lapsed into silence; for he knew they were no nearer. Her success had made her more pleasant for a time, that was all, and had saved him from having another dose of her patient suffering that would have surely followed his latest indiscretion of bringing the child to the house.

Another of Mrs. Prince's dinners was drawing to its close. Clara Richards, sitting at her host's right hand, looked down the long, glittering table to where her hostess sat talking to that pasty-looking young man who kept flinging his hands about as though they did not belong to him. Mrs. Richards was inwardly seething. At her last dinner, when the Princes were there, she had served seven courses; it had taken days to look up books and think out dishes. Now that china doll up there had served only five and had everyone exclaiming over them . her and her hors d'oeuvres, and her finger-bowls and candles on the table. Who was she, anyway? Only a doctor's wife, like herself.

And look at him, there, laughing with Peggy Davidson. Looking at Rodney, she wondered what it

was about him that had trebled his practice within four years; he had more than half the Tyne Dock patients and all East Jarrow; and then that Lady Cuthbert Harris sending for him right from yon end of Westoe.

It was easy for Joe to say she was a neurotic and hoped to get a sensation out of his beard. Joe had lost quite a number of patients lately, mostly women; and why? Well, he certainly wasn't her idea of handsome. It's his la-la manners and haw-haw voice they go daft over, I suppose. Something would have to be done; but what? She didn't know.

She certainly couldn't see her Joe mincing around women, and perhaps that was something to be thankful for. She had enough trouble with him, as it was; the money he spent on drink, and with three girls to bring up! Which brought her back to her hostess. It paid you to hold a candle to the Devil. Stella Prince had a sister married to a lord; not one of these newly made ones, either. She had looked up this particular one's lineage, and had been deeply impressed. They had visited here last year, and would likely visit again; and if her girls could obtain an introduction to a lord--well, everything has to start, hasn't it. Across the table, Peggy Davidson was now listening to Doctor Richards's pompous voice and thinking. How soon can we leave? I hope the kiddies are asleep. But they won't be . they'll be playing old Anna up. Fancy having a dinner on a. Christmas Eve! Oh, I hate leaving the house tonight; and I've got their stockings to fill. I wonder if we could go about nine o'clock. No, that would be too soon.

And it would likely hurt Rodney; he's so anxious for me to be friends with her; but I can't. Still, I mustn't let him see. He sounds very gay tonight, as if he has been drinking. But he seldom touches anything.

She cast a quick glance at him. It's all put on; he's not happy. And this house! It's like a showpiece. What he wants is a home. I used to wonder how he could be comfortable in our sitting-room, with the mess it's usually in, but I don't wonder any longer after having seen this.

The rather squeaky voice of the young man broke in upon her thoughts.

He had risen and was holding a glass of wine in his hand: "Ladies and gentlemen 1 I ask you to

drink the success of our gifted hostess. I don't know whether you are aware of it, but our hostess is the author of a book of very fine poems which is soon to be published. "

Rodney frowned. How dare he! Damn him! What right has he, anyway?

And how does he know? He came late. It's not likely she's just told him. The muscles in his cheeks worked rapidly.

Amid exclamations of surprise and congratulations, the toast was drunk.

Stella sweetly acknowledged their congratulations, and playfully admonished the young man for giving away her little secret.

While he was insisting that she read the poems to the company in the drawing-room, Rodney's voice broke in on her pleasure: "Let's celebrate," he was saying, looking from Peggy Davidson to her husband.

"What do you say, Peter?"

"Anything you like, Rodney. Suits me."

"We'll do a show in Shields ... there's a pantomime on somewhere....

That's it, let's all go to the pantomime 1' He looked round the table, like an excited boy.

Mrs. Richards nodded laughing assent. Anything, she thought, is better than listening to that madam blowing her horn over a book of poetry. "A little childish fun won't do us any harm," said Doctor Richards, easing his stomach away from the table. If the ladies are agreeable, I'm for it. "

The plain young woman who had come with Herbert Barrington looked relieved, even animated for a moment.

Herbert Barrington looked at Stella, and she, striving to keep the signs of her anger from her face, looked down the table towards Rodney.

How dare he 1 What did he mean? Breaking up her dinner party like thisi And to suggest celebrating her success by going to a pantomime .

a pantomime of all things! She took a small, cold vow to herself: She'd make him suffer for this, as only she knew how.

Her time would come.

"I think we're too late for the pantomime," she temporised.

"No we're not. It's just turned eight o'clock, and the first house doesn't come out until half-past," said Rodney, without looking at her.

"If we go now we'll have plenty of

time. "