Jeanne of the MarshesOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
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Jeanne of the Marshes
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 20th century
"So far as I'm concerned," he remarked, "the trouble has arrived. I've
a good mind to chuck it altogether."
The Princess looked up. Worn though her face was, she possessed one
feature, her eyes, which still entitled her to be called a beautiful
woman. She looked at Forrest steadily, and he felt himself growing
uncomfortable before the contempt of her steady regard.
"I wonder how it is," she said pensively, "that all men are more or
less cowards. You shield yourselves by speaking of an attack of nerves.
It is nothing more nor less than cowardice."
"I believe you are right," Forrest assented. "I'm not the man I was."
"You are not," the Princess agreed. "It is well for you that you have
had me to look after you, or you would have gone to pieces altogether.
You talk of giving up cards and retiring to the Continent. My dear man,
what do you propose to live on?"
He did not answer. He had bullied this woman for a good many years. Now
he felt that the tables were being turned upon him.
"What has become of the De la Borne money?" she asked. "I never thought
that you would get it, but he paid up every cent, didn't he?"
Forrest nodded.
"He did," he admitted, "or rather his brother did for him. I lost four
hundred at Goodwood, and there were some of my creditors I simply had
to give a little to, or they would have pulled me up altogether. You
talk about nerves, Ena, but, hang it all, it's enough to give anyone
the hum to lead the sort of life I've had to lead for the last few
years. I'm nothing more nor less than a common adventurer."
"Whatever you are," the Princess answered steadily, "you are too old to
change your life or the manner of it. One can start again afresh on the
other side of forty, but at fifty the thing is hopeless. Fortunately
you have me."
"You!" he repeated bitterly. "You mean that I can dip into your purse
for pocket-money when you happen to have any. I have done too much of
it. You forget that there is one way into a new world, at any rate."
The Princess smiled.
"My dear Nigel," she said, "it is a way which you will never take.
Don't think I mean to be unkind when I say that you have not the
courage. However, we will not talk about that. I sent for you to tell
you that De Brensault is really in earnest about Jeanne. He is dining
here to-night. I will get some other people and we will have bridge. De
Brensault is conceited, and a bad player, and what is most important of
all, he can afford to lose."
Forrest began to look a little less gloomy.
"You were fortunate," he remarked, "to get hold of De Brensault. There
are not many of his sort about. I am afraid, though, that he will not
make much of an impression upon Jeanne."
The Princess' face hardened.
"If Jeanne is going to be obstinate," she said, "she must suffer for
it. De Brensault is just the man I have been looking for. He wants a
young wife, and although he is rich, he is greedy. He is the sort of
person I can talk to. In fact I have already given him a hint."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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