"Oh, I don*t mean in that way. I'm not going to scold you or any thin 2.*'
"You relieve my mind. What is this solemn matter that we have to discuss?'*
"It*s about Geraldine—and my allowance and—and maintenance and everything. Mr. Varlon, are—have you got anything to do with it?"
"What makes you think I have?**
"Well, both Stephen and Mrs. Dorley seemed so astounded at the idea of Geraldine paying for me—much less paying for me with a good grace. And I couldn't help seeing, that first evening, that the idea infuriated her, and yet the next morning she was perfectly agreeable and nice about it. It's so strange. There must be an explanation for it.'*
"And you think Tm the most likely explanation?*'
"At least, I would be very glad to have a frank answer," Thea said. "It—it's such a false position. And—now I feel rather a fool to have suggested that you should be sufficiently interested in me to do such a thing,** she added unhappily.
"You have no reason to feel a fool," he assured her.
"You mean you—are paying?**
"Do you mmd very much?** He glanced at her with a slight smile, and then looked ahead again as though his driving absorbed his attention.
"I don*t—know,'* Thea said slowly. She studied his profile anxiously for a moment and then, as though that supplied her with no clue, she asked almost timidly, "But— why? I don *t understand why you should. **
"My dear, there was hterally nothing else to be done.'*
"Oh! ** She bit her lip and flushed.
"Tm sorry," he said quickly. "That sounds much more ungracious than I intended. I am only trying to make you see that it was a fairly simple matter with no deep undercurrent of meaning. Fm a rich man and can well afford to do you this small service and—' *
"It's not a small service,*' Thea said in a soft, troubled voice.
"Well, shall I say the amount it represents in cold cash is unlikely to embarrass me?" he replied with a smile. "It's really perfectly straightforward, Thea. You're a good child, and through no fault of your own you are m a most unfortunate position. Of course Geraldine could and should look after the matter. But if she flatly refuses to do so—and I'm sorry, but she does— then what is to happen?"
"I suppose there are jobs one can get without any training, "Tnea said slowly.
"But what sort of jobs?"
"Well, beggars can't be choosers."
"Don't be silly. You aren't a beggar, and there's no need for you to insist on abasing yourself to that position," he said rather impatiently.
"I feel a bit abased now," Thea murmured, with a not very steady little smile.
"Oh, Thea—" he drew the car to the side of the road and stopped it, but though he turned to face her he made no attempt to touch her "—stop being a tiresome child and please don't cry."
"I'm not gomg to cry.''
"Well, you look exactly like it. And crying women always make me nervous and bad tempered."
That steadied her and she laughed a little at the very idea of anything making him nervous.
"That's better." He smiled at her. "Look here, will you believe that if some worthy secretary of a charitable association had come to me with your story, I would have done just the same thing probably, and never even bothered to see you personally?
"No, I don't quite believe that," Thea said, but she was beginning to feel less overwhelmed by the situation.
"Well, at least there is no need for you to make yourself miserable about it."
"I'm n6t exactly miserable about it. And of course—" she put out her hand quickly on his arm "—I'm most terribly, terribly grateful. It was just that the idea of an absolute stranger doing that—"
"I am not an absolute stranger," he interrupted with that faint smile.
"Well, then, the idea of someone I've known such a short time, and someone on whom I have absolutely no claim at all, doing so m.uch for me is rather-rather overwhelming.
Besides " She stopped and was silent so long that he
prompted her gently.
"Besides?"
She rather nervously pleated up a bit of his coat sleeve between her thumb and finger.
"Geraldine said—that very first evening, after you had gone—that you were not -the—the sort of man from whom one could take things."
"Really?" His eyebrows shot up. "I have never found Geraldine of that opinion where she herself is concerned,*' he said dryly.
"Well, maybe that's different. Maybe you're—old friends. I think she meant that one—one didn't put oneself under a financial obligation to you. That it implied—oh, dear, this is all so difficult." cried Thea. "And I'm explaining very badly."
"You're explaining very clearly," he assured her, still with that dry note in his tone. "What she meant was that I have not a suflficiently good reputation to be able to pay out money on behalf of a girl without certain deductions being drawn. Is that it?"
"I—suppose so."
Without saying anything more he started the car.
Then, when they had been driving for some while in silence, he said obstinately, "I shall pay it, all the same. Since it's done through Geraldine, there need be no gossip."
*^Don't you think she might taIk?"Thea asked timidly.
"No. The pleasure of being considered generous at no cost to herself would outweigh any satisfaction she could derive from spiteful innuendos," he said so disagreeably, that Thea could not help thinking that if his youthful admirers outside the theater could have heard him then, there would have been some hasty revision of their romantic views on the situation existing between him and Geraldine.
Once more they drove on in silence. Then at last, realizing that they were now not very far from home, Thea spoke again. ^
''Mr. Varlon, I think I haven't sounded very grateful for your extraordinary kindness," she said—rather appealingly because she thouent he was looking grim.
Immediately ne gave her a quick, flashing smile, however.
*'That*s all right, child. It was very natural for you to draw the conclusions you did."
*'I didn't draw any conclusions!" Thea exclaimed indignantly. "I never imagined for a moment that you had designs—well, that there was any ulterior motive behind your generosity. I was only concerned with the fact that people talk. And not very much concerned with that, to tell the truth,'' she added, with a sudden smile.
"What was all the upset about then?" he inquired, with som.ething of an amused protest in the lift of his eyebrows.
"Oh, mostly the feeling of being so stupid and helpless, and dependent on just anyone, however ... however...."
"Unsuitable they might be," he suggested obligingly.
She laughed.
"Something like that. But even if you are unsuitable, I think you're most awfully nice," she added with a sudden burst of frankness.
"My wounded feelings are entirely restored," he assured her gravely.
"They weren't really very badly wounded, were they?" she inquired, half laughing and half anxious.
"Not mortally, Thea. And certainly not if you can resign yourself fairly happily to accepting the situation as it is and not worrying unduly over implications and possibilities and obligations, he said with a smile.
"I will,"Thea promised. "Only, Mr. Varlon "
"Yes?"
"You will let me pay it all back, as soon as I'm earning my own living, won't you?"
"Oh, my God, child! Do we have to be so scrupulously exact about these things?" he inquired, half irritated and halfamused.
'' I think one should be.''
"But what do you suppose I should feel like, accepting installments on some damned debt of yours, when I have plenty of money myself and can't possibly help knowing that you will need all of yours, especially when you first
start? I think that really would wound my feelings, if I have any.*'
' ' Would it? " Thea looked doubtful. /
"Um-hm. Don't you think you might trust me so far?"
; "It's just a question of independence, but I won't press it too far, if you'd so much rather not. It's certainly not a question of distrusting you in any way," Thea declared earnestly.
"Isn't it?"
"Of course not. In fact, I'd trust you more than most people."
"That," he said, "might not be very wise. But anyway, the matter is now settled. And here we are."
He drew up the car outside the now familiar block of apartments.
'' Are you coming in? "
"No. Not tonight. You don't need moral support of any kind, do you?"
"Oh, no." Thea laughed. "Thank you very much for bringing me home. And thank you very, very much for all your kindness and generosity."
He smiled as he took the hand she held out to him.
"You are very welcome, Child. Now don't worry any more about it and—" he paused a moment and then added with elaborate casualness "—it isn't necessary to discuss the arrangement with anyone. Not anyone, you understand."
"You mean—not mention to Geraldine that I know?"
He made a slight face.
"By no means mention to Geraldine that you know."
"All right." She smiled full at him-that smile of friendly, wide-eyed interest that Mr. Thorburn had found so disturbing. "Good night, Mr. Varlon."
"Good night, Thea."
He waited until she had crossed the pavement and entered the doorway of the block. She turnea to look back, and he was still sitting in the lighted car, watching her. When she waved, he smiled and just raised his hand. Then she stepped into the elevator and was borne upward to Geraldine's apartment.
CHAPTER FIVE
Monday morning brought Thea a prompt reply from her headmistress. The slightly formal wording, the slightly old-fashoned handwriting, brought with them such a clear reminder of the school atmosphere she had now left far behind, that for a nostalgic minute or two Thea felt she had wandered into a strange, alien world here in London, and that what she really longed for was to return to the dull but familiar paths she had trodden most of her life.
But the impression passed. For the formal wording and the old-fashioned handwriting served to convey the information that she wanted. And here at last, in the list of business colleges—noted according to their various excellen-ies or otherwise—was the first arrow p>ointing along the road to a definite future.
In an ill-considered moment, she tried to interest Geral-dine in the question of which college she should select, but Geraldine simply said, "Don't ask me. I know nothing about such things and care less. It's your own choice. You Dught to know what you want. You'd better talk to Lindsay if you want any real advice. He seems to fancy himself in the role of guide, philosopher and friend."
But Thea thought that Lindsay Varlon had already taken—or been forced to take—a sufficiently personal interest in her affairs, and she decided that this was something jhe would tackle on her own.
After that, with a free hand and a certain amount of trepidation, Thea embarked on a round of interviews and inquiries, which finally resulted in her enrolling at a well-cnown business college that had an excellent reputation and
/■
the added advantage of being within possible, if not exactly easy, walking distance of Geraldine's apartment.
"The term began three weeks ago," the efficient secretary informed Thea briskly but quite kindly. "However, if you 're prepared to do some extra hard work at first, you will soon catch up."
Thea declared herself ready to work like a slave. And though the secretary didn't seem to think that would be necessary, they ended their interview on a note of mutual approval.
The next day Thea started classes. And after that Geral-dine certainly had no reason to complain that she saw too much of her young cousin.
Denham—who appeared to be sympathetically intrigued by the spectacle of anyone working as hard as Thea at anything but acting—provided her each morning with what she called "a good, hot breakfast to keep you going. Miss Thea." (She was now "Miss Thea" to Denham.) Then she departed for college before Geraldine was even awake. She was away all day, and when she came home she usually spent the time between then and Geraldine's departure for the theater in her own room, studying.
True to his promise, Stephen telephoned during the first week and Thea did find time to go clancing with him. After • that, she allowed herself one evening a week out with Stephen and occasionally yielded to his eager persuasions and refrained from pressing the "once only" rule too far. On Sundays she often went home with him.
Of Lindsay she saw nothing. He was busy on a new production Geraldine said once, with that casual air she reserved for all subjects not directly concerned with herself And Thea, though she would very willingly have made an opportunity to see him, felt that possibly the more she remained an impersonal "case," the better.
These were really very happy days for Thea. She was entirely free from the natural restrictions she had known at boarding school, and equally free from the restraint put on her in the holidays by the kind of hfe that "poor mummie" had insisted on living. She was doing well in her classes and could reasonably expect to be earning an independent living in a matter of months. In addition, she had the warm
and constant friendship of Stephen. And perhaps that counted most of all.
All the same, when he once more raised the question of her working in his firm's office, she rejected it.
"Stephen, it's nothing to do with not liking your company and friendship enormously—and valuing it, too. It's only that I think both my job and our friendship will flourish better if they 're kept apart."
"All right." He smiled at her. "Have it your own way, so long as I've a claim on your evenings and your company."
"You'll always have that," Thea told him witn an answering smile. "And as for the job—well, if I go on doing well at the business college, I ought to get a very good job straight from there, without any. recommendation from even the kindest of my friends.''
"Independent little thing, aren't you? "grinned Stephen.
Thea thought for a moment of her extreme dependence on Lindsay Varlon, and said, "I daresay it's because I have to have so much provided for me at this point that I do rather look forward to standing on my own feet in every way."
"Does Geraldine rub it in a bit?" Stephen asked a little indignantly. "Make you feel what a lot she's doing for you?"
"Geraldine?" Thea repeated inquiringly. And then she recollected herself "Oh ... oh, no, she doesn't. As a matter of fact, she never talks about it or emphasizes it in any way. It's just that one has it in the back of one's mind, you know."
Stephen nodded sympathetically.
"I wish she were a nicer person, and were more of a companion for you," he said with a frown.
"Why, Stephen—" Thea leaned across the table of the cosy little Sono restaurant where they were having dinner, and patted his arm. "You don't need to worry about that. She IS reasonably kind and friendly, you know. And if you want to know the flattering truth—" she smiled at him "—I wouldn 't ever feel the lack of friends, so long as I had you and your darling mother to rely on."
Stephen flushed with pleasure. But almost immediately the slight frown returned.
"Thanks, Thea, dear. I'm glad to hear you say that. But
there's something that's worrying me a bit on that very account."
"Worrying you?" It was so difficult to associate worry with the easygoing and optimistic Stephen that Thea looked astonished.
"You see, there is a chance—well, rather more than a chance—that I may be sent to the States during the next few months on a survey and series of consultations for the firm. It'd be a big thing for me, of course, and I'd be away, say, four or five months, possibly a little more. Several of my father's people are over there, and it would be a wonderful chance for mother to come with me and see them all aeain. She'd love it, and in the ordinary way, we should both nave jumped at it. But—I hate leaving you just now, Thea. We both do."
"But,
my dear! You mustn't dream of letting that affect your plans," Thea cried earnestly. "How simply sweet of you both even to think of it. But Stephen, of course you must go, if you have the opportunity. It would be a chance in a million. And though 1 would naturally miss you, I'll be working hard and filling my time, and, as far as Ufe with Geraldme is concerned, it's perfectly comfortable and satisfactory. It isn't as though you'd been gone for a year or two. The time will pass quite soon—all too soon for you and your mother, I daresay—and think how interesting it will be having letters from you both, and all you '11 have to tell me when you come back. Why, Stephen, I 11 be looking forward to it all the time. And by the time you do come back, you'll probably find me installed in a marvelous job and throwing my weight about in my own apartment—or whatever I have."
He laughed and caught her hand in his.
"You are a sport, Thea," he declared, with his face clearing completely. "You sound as excited as if you're going to have all the fun and experience yourself "
"Well, you can get lots of vicarious thrills out of enjoying your friends' pleasures at second hand," Thea declared.
"And you really won't feel too badly, left on your own at the very time you will be changing over from training to a real job?"
Thea shook her head.
"Moral support is always very nice, of course," she
admitted. "But it*d be ridiculous if I couldn't manage that much on my own. I'm grown up, Stephen—I think you sometimes forget that—"
"Well, you don't look it, you see," he interrupted.
"I'm nearly twenty,"Thea insisted.
He laughed and said, "No wonder I thought I detected a few silver threads among the gold."
Thea laughed, too.
"Anyway, as far as one can see, I'm through the really problematical part of my life—I mean this part of it. Accord-mg to all foreseeable events, I shall just pass on fairly Ipamlessly from business college to a job. So what is there to worry about?"
Stephen considered this.
"Nothing, I suppose, if you put it like that," he admitted.
"It's just that I hate to feel that, in an emergency, you have only Geraldine to turn to."
I "In a real emergency I would probably turn to Mr. Varlon," Thea stated simply.
Harlequin Omnibus: Take Me with You, Choose What You Will, Meant for Each Other Page 48