"
"What is her parentage? Heredity plays so large a part in these things,"
Mr. Derringham asked.
"The result of a passionate love-match between distant cousins of that
fine old race, I believe. Timothy La Sarthe was at Oxford before your
day, but not under me--a brilliant, enchanting fellow, drowned while
yachting when my little friend was only a few months old."
"And the mother?"
"Married again to pay his debts, to a worthy stockbroker, almost
immediately, I believe. She paid the debt with herself and died after
having three children for him in a few years."
"So your protegee lives with those cameos of the Victorian era we dined
with, and never sees the outside world?"
"Never--from one year's end to another."
"What a fate!" and John Derringham stretched out his arms. "Ye gods,
what a fate!"
And again Cheiron smiled, raising his bushy left brow.
Halcyone, meanwhile, was walking with firm certain steps across the
park, where the dusk had fallen. The turbulent Boreas blew in her face,
and she stopped and took off her soft cap and unplaited her hair so that
it flew out in a cloud as the wind rushed through it.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115