“It’s unspeakable. It’s beyond all limits,” she cried. “He—he doesn’t seem to listen to anything I say.”
There was bewilderment as well as anger in her voice.
“He’ll listen to me,” said the millionaire grimly.
Ruth went on:
“I’ve hardly seen him for the last month. He goes about everywhere with that woman.”
“With what woman?”
“Mirelle. She dances at the Parthenon, you know.”
Van Aldin nodded.
“I was down at Leconbury last week. I—I spoke to Lord Leconbury. He was awfully sweet to me, sympathised entirely. He said he’d give Derek a good talking to.”
“Ah!” said Van Aldin.
“What do you mean by ‘Ah!’ Dad?”
“Just what you think I mean, Ruthie. Poor old Leconbury is a washout. Of course he sympathised with you, of course he tried to soothe you down. Having got his son and heir married to the daughter of one of the richest men in the States, he naturally doesn’t want to mess the thing up. But he’s got one foot in the grave already, everyone knows that, and anything he may say will cut darned little ice with Derek.”
“Can’t you do anything, Dad?” urged Ruth, after a minute or two.
“I might,” said the millionaire. He waited a second reflectively, and then went on: “There are several things I might do, but there’s only one that