Free Talk of the Town by Joan Smith Page A

thought immediately what I meant him to think— that I was drinking poisoned wine. He carried on so—oh, my! How it was a sin and worse, and why was I doing such a thing.
    "Well, I gave him to understand it was unhappiness with his behaviour that led me to it; that I would sooner die than let him ruin his life for me. I told him I loved him too much to see him ruined, and a good deal more nonsense of that sort, with tears and all the rest of it. I told him the only thing that could induce me not to take my life was for him to go back to his wife and family and make something useful of his life. He said it was impossible and even suggested at one point that we both drink poison—so uncomfortable, and awkward, too, me with not a drop of real poison in the house. I would have looked silly if he’d pushed it, but I reminded him of his family obligations at this point, you may be sure. And made him get rid of his other flirt, too,” she added.
    “He sounds a sanctimonious gentleman, to be sure. Had another friend, as well, had he?”
    “Well, my dear, everyone had. He was not considered at all fast or loose. He had a little actress at one point, for it was never pretended to be a love match between him and the Duchess. She took the actress amiss all the same, and they were not getting along at all when he got after me. The St. Felixes, you know, were always said to live up to their full title, the saint and the dukedom, and the wife’s family was full of starch. Her brother Archie is the Archbishop of Canterbury, if you can imagine. Ho, and he as full of vinegar as any of them. But St. Felix went back to being a saint after I put a scare into him. He and his wife got back together and there was never any talk about him, so it was all for the best. How it makes one aware of one’s age. Young Richard a grown man now, and looking very much like his father, too. Finally having a son did much to settle George down. He had given up hope of it and felt that as his brother Algernon had two sons, the title would be going to them; and so I suppose that is why he didn’t care too much about running off and making a fool of himself. Only think if I’d let him and then heard the minute we set foot off the island that he had had a son! Fathers always dote on their sons when they are dead ringers for themselves, as Richard is. Someone pointed him out to me t’other day in the Park. It is why I can’t bear to see him when he comes. It brings it all back to me. I believe I loved old St. Felix. Oh, not in the way I love—loved Standington. The first passion is never quite recaptured; but I could have been happy with him if it weren’t for Arthur and, of course, the Duchess and his family. But instead of taking up with him, I went abroad and married Mr. Eglinton. I’ve led a sad and sorrowful life. Such a lot of shame and disgrace I’ve brought on everyone, but at least I don’t have St. Felix on my conscience.”
    “You are a much-maligned saint yourself, Aunt Effie,” Daphne said, very moved by the story. Like everyone else, she had thought her aunt a bit of a mindless fool, but there was a broad streak of kindness, as Mama had always insisted, buried in the foolishness. “Yes, and I wager God has got a special corner of heaven set aside for people like you, too. There won’t be many in it, either.”
    “I hope I am not quite alone,” Effie laughed. “It won’t be heaven to me if I am not with my friends.”
    It was a heart-wrenching statement—Effie and her “friends,” who robbed her pockets when she was rich and accused her of blackmail when she was poor. And the St. Felixes the worst of the lot—coming with their noses in the air to pay her. She could have ruined the whole family years ago, and they would not be in such eminent positions now.
    “So you tore the pages out to hide this story from me, Auntie? You have nothing to be ashamed of in it.”
    “That was not my purpose in doing it, love. The thing is,