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Read Ebook: The Man Who Lost Himself by Stacpoole H De Vere Henry De Vere
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Ebook has 1192 lines and 38989 words, and 24 pages
"Why?"
"Because--because--for a moment I felt inclined to say 'yes.' I know it was dreadful, but think of my position, you going on like that, and me all alone with no one to care for me--It's like a crave for drink. I must have someone to care for me and I thought you didn't--so I nearly said 'yes.' Once I had said what I did I felt stronger."
"What did he say?"
"He pleaded passionately--like the man in the book, and talked of roses and blue seas--he's not English--I sat thinking of Venetia in her felt bath room slippers and yellow wrapper. You know she reads St. Thomas ? Kempis and opens bazaars. She opened one the other day, and came back with her nose quite red and in a horrid temper--I wonder what was inside that bazaar?--Well, I knew if I did anything foolish Venetia would exult, and that held me firm. She's not wicked. I believe she is really good as far as she knows how, and that's the terrible thing about her. She goes to church twice on Sunday, she takes puddings and things to old women in the country, she opens bazaars and subscribes to ragged schools--yet with one word she sets everyone by the ears--Well, when I got home from the dance I began to think, and to-day, when they were all out, I had my boxes packed and came right back here. I'd have given anything to see their faces when they got home and found me gone."
She sprang up suddenly. A knock had come to the door, it opened and a servant announced Miss Birdbrook.
Venetia had not changed that evening, she was still in her big hat. She ignored Jones, and, standing, spoke tersely to Teresa.
"So you have left us?"
"Yes," replied the other. "I have come back here, d'you mind?"
"I?" said Venetia. "It's not a question of my minding in the least, only it was sudden, and as you left no word as to where you were going we thought it best to make sure you were all right."
She took her seat uncomfortably on a chair and the Countess of Rochester perched herself again by Jones.
"Yes, I am all right," said she, with her hand resting on his shoulder.
Venetia gulped.
"I am glad to know it," she said. "We tried to make you comfortable--I cannot deny that mother feels slightly hurt at having no word from you before leaving, and one must admit that it cannot but seem strange to the servants your going like that--but of course that is entirely a question of taste."
"You mean," said Teresa, "that it was bad taste on my part--well, I apologise. I am sorry, but the sudden craving to get--back here was more than I could resist. I would have written to-night."
"Oh, it does not matter," said Venetia, "the thing is done. Well, I must be going--but have you both thought over the future and all that it implies?"
"Have we, Ju-ju?" asked the girl, caressingly stroking Jones' head.
"Yes," said Jones.
"I'm sure," went on Venetia with a sigh, "I have always done my best to keep things together. I failed. Was it my fault?"
"No," said Teresa, aching for her to be gone. "I am sure it was not."
"I am glad to hear you say that. I always tried to avoid interfering in your life. I never did--or only when ordinary prudence made me speak, as for instance, in that baccarat business."
"Don't rake up old things," said Teresa suddenly.
"What is affecting you?"
"Just this. You know quite well the financial position. You know what the upkeep of this house means. You can't do it. You plainly can't do it. Your income is not sufficient."
"But how does that affect you?"
"When tradespeople talk it affects me; it affects us all. Why not let this house and live quietly, somewhere in the country, 'til things blow over?"
"What do you mean by things blowing over?" asked Teresa. "One would think that you were talking of some disgrace that had happened."
Venetia pulled up her long left hand glove and moved as though about to depart. She said nothing but looked at her glove.
During the whole of this time she had neither looked at nor spoken to Jones, nor included him by word in the conversation. Her influence had been working upon him ever since she entered the room. He began now more fully to understand the part she had played in the life of Rochester. He felt that he wanted to talk to Venetia as Rochester had, probably, never talked.
"A man once said to me that the greatest mistake a fellow can make is to have a sister to live with him after his marriage," said Jones.
Venetia pulled up her right hand glove.
"What do you mean by worse?" fired Teresa.
"I mean exactly what I say," replied Venetia.
"That is no answer. Do you mean that Arthur has been unfaithful to me?"
"I did not say that."
"Well, what can be worse than intoxication--that is the only thing worse that I know of--unless murder. Do you mean that he has murdered someone?"
"I will not let you drag me into a quarrel," said Venetia; "you are putting things into my mouth. I think mad extravagance is worse than intoxication, inasmuch as it is committed by reasonable people uninfluenced by drugs or alcohol. I think insults levelled at inoffensive people are worse than the wildest deeds committed under the influence of that demon alcohol."
"Who are the inoffensive people who have been insulted?"
"Good gracious--well, of course you don't know--you have not had to interview people."
"What people?"
"Sir Pleydell Harcourt for instance, who had sixteen pianos sent to him only last week, to say nothing of pantechnicon vans and half the contents of Harrods' and Whiteleys', so that Arlington Street was blocked, simply blocked, the whole of last Friday."
"Did he say Arthur had sent them?"
"He had no direct proof--but he knew. There was no other man in London would have done such a thing."
"Did you send them, Ju-ju?"
"No," said Jones. "I did not."
Venetia rose.
"You admitted to me, yourself, that you did," said she.
"I was only joking," he replied.
Teresa went to the bell and rang it.
"Good night," said Venetia, "after that I have nothing more to say."
"Thank goodness," murmured Teresa when she was gone. "She made me shiver with her talk about extravagance. I've been horribly extravagant the last week--when a woman is distracted she runs to clothes for relief--anyhow I did. I've got three new evening frocks and I want to show you them. I've never known your taste wrong."
"Good," said Jones, "I'd like to see them."
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