[Cover Illustration] THE TALE OF TRIONA =_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_= IDOLS JAFFERY VIVIETTE SEPTIMUS DERELICTS THE USURPER STELLA MARIS WHERE LOVE IS THE ROUGH ROAD THE MOUNTEBANK THE RED PLANET THE WHITE DOVE FAR-AWAY STORIES SIMON THE JESTER A STUDY IN SHADOWS A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY THE WONDERFUL YEAR THE HOUSE OF BALTAZAR THE FORTUNATE YOUTH THE BELOVÈD VAGABOND AT THE GATE OF SAMARIA THE GLORY OF CLEMENTINA THE MORALS OF MARCUS ORDEYNE THE DEMAGOGUE AND LADY PHAYRE THE JOYOUS ADVENTURES OF ARISTIDE PUJOL THE TALE OF TRIONA BY WILLIAM J. LOCKE Author of “The Belovèd Vagabond,” “The Morals of Marcus Ordeyne,” etc. [Illustration] NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1922 Copyright, 1922 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc. PRINTED IN U. S. A. THE TALE OF TRIONA THE TALE OF TRIONA CHAPTER I OLIVIA GALE leaned back in her chair at the end of the dining-room table, and looked first at the elderly gentleman on her right, and then at the elderly gentleman on her left. “You’re both of you as kind as can be, and I’m more than grateful for all you’ve done; but I do wish you’d see that it’s no use arguing. It only hurts and makes us tired. Do help yourself, Mr. Trivett. And—another cup of tea, Mr. Fenmarch?” Mr. Fenmarch, on her left, passed his cup with a sigh. He was a dusty, greyish man, his face covered with an indeterminate growth of thin short hair. His eyes were of a dull, unspeculative blue. “As your solicitor, my dear Olivia,” said he, “I can only obey instructions. As the friend of your family, I venture to give you advice.” “Why the deuce your father didn’t tie you up in a trusteeship till you were twenty-five, at any rate,” said Mr. Trivett on her right, helping himself to whisky and soda—the table, covered with a green baize cloth, was littered with papers and afternoon refreshments. “Why the dickens——” he began again after a sizzling gulp. “Yes, it’s most unfortunate,” said Mr. Fenmarch, cutting off his friend’s period. “And what you are going to do with yourself, all alone in the world, with this enormous amount of liquid money is more than I can imagine.” Olivia smiled and tapped the blue-veined hand that set down his teacup. “Of course you can’t. If imagination ran away with a solicitor, it would land him in the workhouse.” “That’s where it will land you, Olivia,” said Mr. Trivett. “Common sense is the better mount.” “That’s rather neat,” she said.