"Not," Thea said without offence, "anything that I imagine you would class as 'decent clothes.' "
Geraldine laughed, rather pleased than annoyed, Thea
saw. She began to realize that her beautiful cousin was one of those people who are not at all averse to qualified acts of generosity as long as those acts minister to a sense of power in the performer. And she was not greatly surprised when GeraMine said, "I daresay I can find you a few things. We *re more or less of a height.'' '
"It's very kind of you," Thea said, and she meant it, for at least this was the only type of kindness of which Geral-dine was capable. But at that moment Thea caught a sardonic gleam in Varlon's eyes, and she thought he was not unaware of the motives that prompted Geraldine's offer.
"Would you like to come and see the show tonight?" That was Varlon, and he said it with an air that suggested he would not be at all offended if she flatly said no.
"I'd love to,"Thea assured him.
"Very well. You shall have a ticket."
"And she'd better come on to Nan Pelferey's party afterward," Geraldine remarked.
But this suggestion didn't appear to meet with Varlon's approval.
"Nan's party? Oh, no. I don't think that's in her line."
They both, Thea couldn't help thinking, had a habit of discussing her as though she were not there. It made her feel faintly uncomfortable, but at the same time excited her curiosity.
" Why wouldn 't it be in my line?'' she wanted to know.
"Eh?" Varlon glanced at her and frowned, looking rather as he had when she had accused him of being inconsistent in coming to the station to rescue her although he claimed to be hardheaded. "Oh, she's not your sort at all."
"But you don't know what my sort is," Thea suggested gently.
"Certainly I know what your sort is." He looked amused again. "And it doesn't mix with Nan Pelferey's sort. You can't go to the party." *
Thea gasped slightly.
"What did you say?"
" I said you can't go to the party.''
"But you really haven't any authority over me, have you?
Tm really nothing whatever to do with you,** Thea stated firmly.
"Aren*t you?** He smiled a little at that, and she suddenly wished he didn*t have such a nice smile. It made it difficult to put him in his place and keep him there. "Well, will you take it from me that you would not enjoy this party, and you had much better come home after the theater?**
"Don't be silly, Lin. Nan may have been a bit shop soiled a year or two ago. But she's been beautifully dry-cleaned by the most expensive matrimonial process," protested Geraf-dine amusedly. "Really, darling, you have hidden depths that I never susp>ected. As a guardian of innocent youth— and feminine youth, at that—you must find yourself in a very singular role.**
"Very singular,** he agreed dryly, without looking at her. "Is it settled, Thea?**
"Why ... why, yes. I suppose it is, if you put it like that," Thea said slowly. "But Tm not really the sort of silly young innocent who needs to be kept in special layers of absorbent cotton, you know.**
"No,** Varlon said. "I didn't suppose you were.**
But he made no move to amplify that, and Geraldine said, "Well, that*s settled, and now Tm going to Jarvain. Tve promised him a fitting for the last ten days, and he*s more temperamental than I am if he*s crossed. Do what you hke with yourself this morning, Thea, only don*t bother me. Sometime this afternoon 1*11 find you something to wear tonight. I hardly ever lunch in, but I daresay Denham will throw together something of a snack if you don't lunch out. And now, Lin, I hope you feel you*ve seen fair play. And goodbye both of you. *'
Varlon laughed and said, "Such a demonstration of fair play that I feel it was worth getting up early to witness it. Goodbye, Thea. Your ticket will be at the box office. The theater is the Crescent—but you know that, don*t you, because you sent your letter there. **
And with a friendly little movement of his hand, but no attempt to take hers, he, too, went off, and Thea was left to write ner letter to her headmistress, feeling that she had seen whole slices of life since last she had talked with that lady.
While she was writing her letter, she heard Geraldine go
out of the apartment on her way to her temperamental dressmaker, and, once her letter was finished and she felt there was nothing further to do about her own affairs at the moment, Thea, too, decided to go out and see something of the city in which she was now to live.
It was a cool, bright day with something exhilarating in the atmosphere—at least, to one of Thea s temperament. And since Geraldine's apartment was in one or the most fashionable parts of the West End, she had no need to walk more than a few hundred yards before she had plenty to interest her and engage her attention.
In her wanderings she came upon the Crescent Theater and paused to examine, with great interest, the photographs of the actors and actresses hung up outside the tneater.
Geraldine certainly looked very attractive! Much more so than when she was indulging in a **scene" at home, Thea reflected judicially. Thougn perhaps it was unkind of one to remember that against her in view of her handsome recovery.
Two or three other people were examining the photographs, too, and Thea was amused to hear one girl say, "Hasn't she got a sweet face?'*Sweet was not quite the most appropriate adjective to apply, to Geraldine, in any circumstances.
"Yes," the girl's companion agreed. "They say he's mad about her."
With interest, Thea glanced from the speaker to the photograph that had prompted this disclosure. It was one that she herself had not noticed up to now, and was quite unmistakably of Lindsay Varlon.
On an impulse of quite unreasonable annoyance, Thea very nearly exclaimed "Nonsense!" but fortunately restrained herself just in time.
"Lucky her!" sighed the first girl, happily unconscious of the rather inimical glance that Thea gave her. "Isn't he marvelous?"
"He is," her companion agreed with fervor. "I've seen this production three times iust to watch him come on the stage at the end and take his bow."
They both drifted off then on a wave of romantic enthusiasm, and Thea looked after them, divided between amusement and surprise. Did Lindsay Varlon really affect people
like that? Even allowing for a certain amount of romantic exaggeration, it seemed that he was an object of great interest and attraction in the theater world.
/ wonder if there is anything between him and Geraldine? she thought as she made her way rather slowly back to her cousin's apartment. And she found, for no special reason, that she disliked the idea intensely. // didn't took like it, she reminded herself. At least, it didn't look like it most of the time. He did kiss her, of course—but it wasn't much of a kiss. Even Thea knew that. Anyway, I think he's much too nice for her, whatever his reputation is supposed to be.
When she reached home, Geraldine—still apparently in her mood of unpredictable generosity—called Thea to her room.
*'You*d better come in and see about something for tonight,'* she said. "Then if anything needs altering there will still be time for Denham to do it.'
*Tf anything needs altering, I expect I can do it myself,'* Thea hastily amended. 'T really am quite handy at making things, andi I'm sure Denham has plenty to do without taking on odd jobs for me.''
"Oh, Denham does all right," Geraldine declared carelessly, as she slid back the polished door of a big built-in wardrobe and displayed to the dazzled Thea a bewildering selection of dresses, suits, coats, evening coats and wraps.
"Oh, how wonderful!" gasped Thea.
"It's quite a nice collection, isn't it?" agreed Geraldine with a pleased laugh. And Thea realized that nothing could have been more tactful than her involuntary gasp of admiration.
"What do you want?" Geraldine inquired, sweeping her hand carelessly over half a dozen evening dresses. "White for girlish innocence, or blue for your eyes—or what?"
"Oh, you choose, Geraldine," Thea said hastily, realizing perfectly
well that she was not really expected to express a preference, but simply to accept gratefully whatever Geraldine finally decided she could Dear to relinquish.
"This might do. It's always been a bit too fluffy for me." Geraldine extracted a hanger from the long chromium rod, and shook out the folds of a golden yellow tulle picture dress. "You'd better try it on."
Trembling with excitement, Thea slipped off her outfit,
whereupon Geraldine surveyed her and remarked, "Fortunately I can let you have underclothes too. Those are a bit utilitarian, aren't they?"
"We weren't allowed anything very frivolous at school,'* Thea explained, as Geraldine dropped the dress over her head with a practiced gesture that left almost every hair still in place.
"Hm ... very nice." Geraldine stood back and regarded her. "The waist could do with a little pulling in. But if you ask Denham she can probably supply you with some sort of sash or belt from her oddment box. How do you like it yourself?"
Thea turned to look at herself in the glass.
"Oh," she said, but on a note that made Geraldine laugh.
"It will do then?"
"Oh, Geraldine, it's heavenly. Will you really lend it to me?"
"You can keep it." Geraldine obviously quite enjoyed the moment. "And I'll lend you this white fur jacket to go with it. But that's only on loan, mind!''
"Of course."
"Oh—and then underclothes." Geraldine went over to a tall chest of drawers. And then quite suddenly she seemed to grow sick of the whole whim. "Oh, ask Denham about undies and shoes and things. I can't be bothered with the rest of it now," she exclaimed impatiently, and waved Thea away out of the room so peremptorily that there was hardly time even to express her thanks.
A little timidly Thea went in search of Denham and explained the position to her.
^'That's all right, miss. I'll see to it," Denham told her with reassuring stolidity. "You want a bit of blue velvet for the waistline, with your eyes that color. It's a pretty dress for you with your fair hair—and young, too. Miss Marven usually has them more sophisticated. What size shoes do you take?"
"Five," Thea said anxiously, hoping the whole scheme was not going to be wrecked on a pair of shoes.
"So does Miss Marven. But she prefers them called four-and-a-half Don't forget that," Denham said. And Thea promised earnestly that she would not.
During the rest of the afternoon she kept to her own room
most of the time in case her presence should annoy Geral-dine now that the generous mood was past. But the two cousins had an early dinner together before Geraldine went to the theater.
Since she was going on to a party after the performance, Geraldine was in evening dress when she left and, catching a glimpse of her as she passed through the apartment to the front door, Thea decided she knew exactly what Denham had meant by saying that *'Miss Marven usually had her dresses sophisticated."
Her slim, backless, shell-pink dress was in perfect taste and most beautifully designed. But no stranger would dare to speak to her in it, thought Thea, and her best friend wouldn 't dare to hug her.
When Geraldine had gone, Denham seemed perfectly willing to give all her time and attention to helping Thea make ready for the great occasion.
Underclothes that were just handfuls of yellow georgette and lace, as far as Thea could see, were produced, and so were sheer silk stockings and a delightful pair of yellow satin shoes with heels that inspired Thea with mingled pleasure and alarm. She found, however, that they were easier to wear than she had dared to suppose.
When she was ready, with the white lur jacket slipped on over her )^ellow dress, Denham said kindly, "You look a picture, miss."
*'Oh, thank you, Denham." Thea blushed with pleasure. "And thank you for all your trouble. I do look nice, I think. Anyone would, in this dress.'*
"Shall I phone for a taxi, miss?"
"Oh ... oh ... .** Thea was given pause for the first time in this delightful business. Her own stock of pocket money, pitifully light to begin with, was already dwmdling alarmingly fast, and she nardly felt she could expect her cousin *s generosity to run to minor luxuries like taxis. "Couldn't I walk?" she said doubtfully at last. "It isn't really far."
"Walk, miss? Not in those shoes," Denham said with emphasis.
"Oh, no. I suppose not. Can I get a bus quite near?"
"I wouldn't take a dress of Miss Marven's in a bus if I were you," Denham said dryly. And Thea saw both the wisdom of that and the fact that it would not do to regard
the dress as entirely hers, even though Geraldine had technically given it to her.
*'Well-'^
But before Thea could make any other suggestion, the doorbell summoned Denham from the room. Listening, with half her attention still on the taxi problem, Thea heard a man's voice. And then, although Geraldine was not in, apparently Denham invited him in.
A moment latter Denham came back into the bedroom. "It's a gentleman come to take you to the theater, miss."
"Take me to the theater! But I don't know any gentleman in London. Apart from Mr. Varlon, that is."
"It'snotMr. Varlon, miss." _^
"Did he give his name?"
"No, Miss Pendray. He said he'd introduce himself. But he's young—and he's nice looking," Denham added encouragingly.
"And he 11 pay for the taxi," finished Thea with a little gurgle of amusement. "All right, Denham. I'll go and see him. But I can't imagine who he is."
And with a final—and, to tell the truth, very reassuring— glance at herself in the mirror, Thea went out of the room and across the little hall to the lounge.
^
CHAPTER THREE
The man who turned from the fire to greet Thea as she came into the room was tall and dark and young, with bright, eager eyes and an extremely frank smile.
"I—say!" was his boyishly unconventional greeting. And then they both laughed.
"What made you say that?" Thea asked, even.before introductions had been made.
"Well, my uncle didn't quite prepare me for this. He said you were just fresh from school and rather implied that you needed looking after."
"How very nice of your uncle. But what has he got to do with me?"Thea wanted to know.
"Oh, he seemed to think he had quite a lot to do with you. Hasn't he?"
"I don't imagine so. Who is your uncle?" Thea asked.
"Why, Lindsay Varlon, of course. Didn't he call you and tell you I was coming?"
"No, he didn't."
"Well, I suppose he wasn't able to get through or forgot all about it or something."
Thea found she preferred the first alternative.
"Then I'd better introduce myself I'm Stephen Dorley. And I'm sane, over twenty-one, and simply delighted to be taking out such a pretty girl for the evening.''
"Thank you. That's very nice of you." Thea smiled at him." So you're Mr. Varlon's nephew? "
"lam."
"How odd," Thea said, before she could stop herself
"Is it? Why? Do you mean that I am so obviously lacking
in the famous Varlon charm? I do hope you didn't mean that. It would spoil my evening.'*
"No, of course not." Thea laughed. "It was just—oh, I hadn 't thought of Mr. Varlon as being the right vintage for an uncle of grown-up nephews, somehow."
"Hadn't you? Personally I think he looks old and wicked enough for anything," Mr. Varlon's nephew replied cheerfully. "But, as a matter of fact, I am the only one. The only grown-up nephew, I mean. And my mother was very much his elder sister—if that's any assistance in putting your mental calculations right."
"Thank you. That's a lot of help," Thea assured him with a smile.
"Fine. Then let's be getting along to the theater. As relations of the star and producer, we ought to set a good example to the general public, and not fall in over other people's feet just as the plot is developing."
"I should think not! Thea exclaimed indignantly.
"I'm glad you don't think that's par
t of the fun," he said, as they went out of the apartment together. "I always think latecomers should be wrapped in the candy wrappers they then proceed to rustle and be burned alive at my own personal fires of wrath."
Thea laughed at this and agreed with some heartiness, while she was secretly thinking how this young man's unself-conscious gaiety and nonsense contrasted with his uncle's worldly, slightly sardonic type of amusement.
But how kind of him to think of even finding me an escort, she thought gratefully. It's almost as though he foresaw the taxi difficuhy.
As they arrived at the theater Thea surveyed the bright, crowded entrance with delight.
"Isn't it lovely!" she exclaimed.
"Isn't what lovely?" Her companion smiled because she did, but looked faintly puzzled.
"Why, everything. The lights and the people and the dresses and the excitement of going out. This is the first time I've been to a real theater."
"Good Lord!" Stephen Dorley seemed really impressed. "Is it?"
"Yes. Oh, I've been to occasional country-town theaters
when a touring company has been playing. But that's not the same thing."
"Til say it's not!" agreed her companion with the fervor of one who knew his London theaterland well. '* Well, this is an extra pleasure for me. It's a real novelty taking someone to the theater for the first time. If you have a relation in the theater world you get a bit spoiled and blase, you know."
But he looked so unspoiled and so little blas6 as he said that, that Thea laughed and said, "I'm sure you're not either of those."
"Thanks a lot." He smiled at her. "I'll try to be an honest, artless fellow for this evening."
Thea didn't answer that, but she thought with surprising certainty, He's described himself as he is, of course. How did he happen in this Geraldine-Lindsay Varlon atmosphere, I wonder. He's so straight and decent and open.
And when they were in their seats she said impulsively, "Do you belong to the theater world yourself?"
Harlequin Omnibus: Take Me with You, Choose What You Will, Meant for Each Other Page 45