Part 52 (1/2)
”Soho!” said Craven, startled.
”Yes!”
”Oh, but Miss Van Tuyn performed that miracle!” said Craven, recovering himself.
”I don't think so. You are too modest. But now, mind, I expect you to come down to Coombe to lunch on the first fine Sunday, and to bring Adela with you. Good night! Bobbie, where are you?”
And she followed Lady Wrackley and the young man with the turned-up nose to a big and s.h.i.+ning motor which had just glided noiselessly up.
”d.a.m.n the women!” muttered Craven, as he pushed through the crowd into the ugly freedom of Shaftesbury Avenue.
CHAPTER III
Miss Van Tuyn and the members of the ”old guard” went home to bed that night realizing that Lady Sellingworth had had ”things” done to herself before she came out to the theatre party.
”She's beginning again after--how many years is it?” said Lady Wrackley to Mrs. Ackroyde in the motor as they drove away from Shaftesbury.
”Ten,” said Mrs. Ackroyde, who was blessed with a sometimes painfully retentive memory.
”I suppose it's Zotos,” observed Lady Wrackley.
”Who's Zotos?” inquired young Leving of the turned-up nose and the larky expression.
”A Greek who's a genius and who lives in South Moulton Street.”
”What's he do?”
”Things that men shouldn't be allowed to know anything about. Talk to Bobbie for a minute, will you?”
She turned again to Mrs. Ackroyde.
”It must be Zotos. But even he will be in a difficulty with her if she wants to have very much done. She made the mistake of her life when she became an old woman. I remember saying at the time that some day she would repent in dust and ashes and want to get back, and that then it would be too late. How foolish she was!”
”She will be much more foolish now if she really begins again,” said Mrs. Ackroyde in her cool, common-sense way.
The young men were talking, and after a moment she continued:
”When a thing's once been thoroughly seen by everyone and recognized for what it is, it is worse than useless to hide it or try to hide it.
Adela should know that. But I must say she looked remarkably well to-night--for her. He's a good-looking boy.”
”He must be at least twenty-eight years younger than she is.”
”More, probably. But she prefers them like that. Don't you remember Rochecouart? He was a mere child. When we gave our hop at Prince's she was mad about him. And afterwards she wanted to marry Rupert Louth. It nearly killed her when she found out he had married that awful girl who called herself an actress. And there was someone else after Rupert.”
”I know. I often wonder who it was. Someone _we_ don't know.”
”Someone quite out of our world. Anyhow, he must have broken her heart for the time. And it's taken ten years to mend. Do you think that she sold her jewels secretly to pay that man's debts, or gave them to him, and that then he threw her over? I have often wondered.”
”So have we all. But we shall never know. Adela is very clever.”
”And now it's another boy! And only twenty-eight or so. He can't be more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Poor old Adela!”