THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12607, 18 November 1926, Page 12

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ABRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALL

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XV.—Continued. Gordon was about to interrupt her, but she went on quietly:— •*T could not go and stay with the Lawsons, as ray aunt had already asked me to go to her up in Scotland, i had heard a very vague rumour that she intended making me her heiress, but that after twenty years she wished to renew m.v acquaintance before doing so. This is how I warned you. i wrote anonymously to Mrs Lindsay, telling her of your quickly-ripening friendship with her daughter, thinking that her interference in the matter would most probably put an end to your meetings with the girl, and leave you free to marry me should my aunt leave me her money, as I had heard. When she died I wrote to vou telling you of my good fortune, but the letter was returned with tbe information from the Lawsons that you had gone away, no one knew where. They had apparently not heard of your elopement, or I should have been spared the humiliation of to-day.” She did not wait for him to express surprise at her words, but rose from the table, calm and dignified. In silence he followed behind her to the door and signalled to her waiting brougham. “I may come and see you sometimes?” he could not help pleading, as he shook hands. “That depends entirely on yourself,” she answered. Ho watched the car turn and mingle with the stream of traffic in Piccadilly; then turning, swiftly on his heel lie walked'in the direction of St. James's Park. Here he sat clown to review his emotions. When he grew calmer he took out a letter from his pocket and began to peruse it. It was some days old and had been much creased by. constant folding. It was from Alec Lindsay, informing him that since Julia’s marriage had taken place without his consent, she could naturally expect little if any consideration at his hands. By the terms of her late mother’s will, the letter went on to state, Julia now inherited a certain income from money invested for her at her birth; beyond that she would receive nothing. Now, to an ordinarily careful man this income would have been more than sufficient to enable him to live, if not extravagantly, at any rate in comfort: but to Gordon, expecting, as he had done, to marry an heiress, the exact figure of his wife’s income was a great blow to him. At that moment he would have done anything to release himself from the unhappy entanglement he had so hastily formed, for in the light of her newlv-aequired wealth, Lady Violet Gilderoy seemed the most eminently desirable woman in the world; and sitting there in the warm sunshine, Gordon inwardly cursed his fate, forgetting that he himself K had been responsible for his own undoing. It was after five o’clock when he rose to go, and the prospect of so early a return to tbe girl upon whom unjustly he preferred to lay the blame of his own folly, filled him with distaste. She would question him as to where he had been, and why he had not returned to fulfil his promise to take her to lunch somewhere. She would very likely heap reproaches upon him, and make things generally unpleasant for him. He decided it would be best to return, however, for he wished to have a talk with Julia on a somewhat important matter which had occurred to him that afternoon, and by now he had learnt to know her sufficiently well to realise that it would be a very difficult matter to induce her to agree to what he was about to suggest, if he made her more angry by neglecting her any longer. On liis way home, there-

fore, he purchased some exquisite roses and a large box of chocolates with which to lieal his young wife’s wounded feelings should she be inclined, as he had just reason to believe, to show resentment at his absence, and even purchased two .stalls for some smart society concert which was taking place that evening. Armed with his purchases, he entered the hotel at which he and Julia were for the moment living, and sought cut his wife. She was sitting disconsolately in their private sittingroom, and Gordon noticed, with a feeling of irritation, that she had been crying, for her eyes were red and her face not particularly clean. “You’re a horrid, mean thing to leave me all day like this I” she said, petulantly, turning away her head as he bent to kiss her. “You promised to take me out to lunch to-day, and I waited until three o’clock for you. Where have you. been?” “I’m most awfully sorry, Julia,” he answered soothingly, putting his arm round her, “but I met a man this morning whom I haven’t ’ seen, for years, and he asked me. to lunch with him. He’s a financier and has got pots of money.” “That doesn’t alter the fact that I’ve been alone in this wretched hotel the entire day without speaking to a single soul,” grumbled Julia, who. .was. not to be easily pacified, in spite of the gift of roses and sweetmeats. “I’m fearfully hungry. I didn’t like to order any lunch or tea, it’s all so strange and horrid here.” “Poor child,” said Gordon, feeling obliged to acknowledge that his young wife certainly had a grievance. “We’Jl soon alter that. We’ll have some tea» and then after dinner I’ll take you to a concert. How will that suit you?” “Oh, all right,” was the uncompromising answer. “I don’t care.” But under the influence of the champagne Gordon had ordered specially for the occasion, and the pretty dress she was wearing, Julia relented a little, and her good spirits returned in full measure. Gordon noted the change with satisfaction. “But we can’t possibly have a house of our own with the small income we’ve got, Julia,” lie said presently, in auswer to his wife’s plea to leave the hotel. “Of course we could, if you sold out those stocks and shares of yours; then we should have plenty of money and could live where we liked. Later on we could invest it in something else and make heaps more if we were lucky.” “But father wouldn’t like me to do that,” said Julia anxiously. “Your father has nothing to do with it, my dear girl,” replied Gordon quickly. “You are your own mistress now*, you know*, and if you ask him he’ll be sure to give you some more if you want it; he can’t refuse you,” “And if we had more money, would you buy me a bungalow on the river?” she asked, with childish enthusiasm. “And let me have a boat, too?” “Of course; you could have anything you wanted.” “Then we will sell out at once, but we must be quick or the summer will have gone.” Gordon nodded, for his wife’s plan would relieve him of a oertain amount of responsibility concerning her. Ho would hire a bungalow for a month or two and pay a respectable middleaged woman to attend to it; that would leave him free to run up to town as often as he liked, since his wife would be too amused to notice the length of his absences. With Julia safely out of the way, and with her money to spend as he life would not be such a disagreeable thing after all, be told himself. (To be continued.)