CHAPTER XIII
A FRESH START
From the nearest railway station to Silliram, our journey south was both monotonous and dusty. The country we passed through was disappointingly flat and uninteresting; a reddish brown plain, broken here and there by serrated hills of red sandstone, which at times gave the illusive impression of castles, battlements and fortresses.
During our long tête-à-tête, Ronnie and I had found plenty to say to one another on many subjects, besides lengthy discussions on Aunt Mina’s delinquencies and Mrs. Hayes-Billington’s past. With respect to these topics Ronnie was forcibly eloquent.
“Of course Aunt Mina wanted to get rid of you at any price, although she wrote me a gushing letter, saying she had made the most delightful arrangements for your happiness; but as far as she was really concerned, you might have gone to the devil!—and you did go to the devil in one way when you set up house with Mrs. Hayes-Billington! The more I think of it, the more furious I feel. To have been chaperoned and brought out by such a woman is enough to blast the name of any girl; and if one of the Secunderabad cats were to get hold of this story you would be simply down and out! The sound thing to do is to pretend you have only just arrived from England, and drop those weeks in ‘The Dovecot’ out of your life.”
“That’s all very fine, Ronnie,” I protested, “but it’s not so easy to drop bits of one’s life like that. Numbers of people knew me at Silliram. Supposing some of them were to come down here?”
“Not much fear of that,” he answered emphatically. “The Silliram crowd seldom travel south—their beat is Bombay.”
“After all, Mrs. Hayes-Billington is not such a coal-black sheep,” I urged. “In many ways she is a good soul, generous and unselfish, and never says a nasty thing about anyone. I believe lots of women have been divorced and are allowed to creep back into society by degrees.”
“My good girl, don’t talk about what you don’t understand! Mrs. Hayes-Billington’s case broke the record. Of course her reputation as a beauty made her rather conspicuous, her track was strewn with victims. There is a legend that more than one silly fool committed suicide on account of her. The man she went off with was enormously rich—it was an absolutely mercenary affair. However, he didn’t marry her, and left her to prey about the world. Apparently she picked up with Hayes-Billington, who by all accounts is a thundering ass!”
“The man Mrs. Hayes-Billington ran away with could not marry her because he died,” I explained impressively.
“Oh, did he? Well, I don’t see that that makes much difference,” was Ronnie’s amazing reply. “Although you made such a bad start I expect you and I will have a real good time housekeeping together, won’t we, old girl?”