With All My Worldly Goods Read Online Free Page A

Martin. She knew the hotel where he was staying. And the thought of being able to speak to him of her disappointment and her unhappy position brought a relief beyond measure.
    With hands that shook, she picked up the telephone, and after a very short pause, Martin’s voice sounded clearly at the other end of the wire.
    “Hallo. Who’s that? Lora! Oh, my dear girl, how delightful of you to ring. How is your father?”
    “He—he hasn’t come,” she stammered into the telephone.
    “He hasn’t—what? Hasn’t come? Do you mean he was not on the boat?”
    “No. You see—” She began to explain feverishly, and suddenly she found she was crying too, so that the tears and the words all seemed to get mixed up together.
    She could hear the concern in Martin’s voice, and it was blessed comfort after the callousness of Bruce Mickleham.
    “ What’s that you say? Do you mean this Mexican roughneck has planted himself at the same hotel?”
    “He—he isn’t exactly that,” she tried to explain. “Only I don’t like being here with him.”
    “Good lord, I should think not. Why don’t you go back to the club? You would be much happier there.”
    “That’s just it, Martin. I can’t.” It seemed so easy to tell him now, after all that had happened. “You see, I haven’t any money.”
    “Any what, dear? Money?” His voice became very tender. “Oh, why didn’t you tell me before? Why, Lora dear, you can have whatever you like. I’ll wire it to the club in the morning. No, please don’t make any protest. You can easily pay me back the moment your father comes. It’s the merest gesture of friendship, and it’s infinitely better that you should take it from me rather than from this Mickleham creature. Isn’t it now? Do be reasonable.”
    It was true of course. And it would solve every problem at one blow. She could slip away now, this very evening, and go to the club. The money would arrive from Martin the next day. She could have cried all over again with the relief of it.
    “Oh, Martin, thank you!”
    “Bless you, child. You’re more than welcome. It’s a privilege to be able to lend it to an heiress like you, you know.”
    She laughed rather shakily, because the anxiety behind his little joke was very touching. And even when she had said good night and rung off, everything looked much brighter.
    Hastily she tossed her things back into her case, and scribbled a note to Bruce Mickleham. It wasn’t a very brave way of doing things, she supposed, but she simply couldn’t face any more arguments or cold condemnation.
    She let herself quietly out of her door and, clutching her case in one hand, she went quickly towards the lift.
    She had almost reached it when his voice said coolly behind her:
    “Do you mind telling me what you are doing?”
    It was ridiculous to start so guiltily, and there was a little touch of bravado in her manner as she turned to face him. He was standing in the doorway of his room, surveying her quite dispassionately.
    “I’m going away—back to the club where I was.”
    “But I thought you had no money.”
    “A—a friend is going to lend me some until daddy comes.”
    “Come here a minute,” he said, without moving.
    “No. Why?” She knew she sounded ridiculously defensive.
    “Because there is something I must say to you, and it can’t be said in an hotel corridor.”
    She came slowly over, and he stood aside for her to pass into his room. After a second’s hesitation she went in.
    “It isn’t any good,” she told him hastily. “I don’t want to stay here, and there is no reason why I should. It will be only a week or two until daddy comes, and I want to stay at the club.”
    “I am sorry,” he said. “But it isn’t possible.”
    “Why not?” She looked full at him, and saw for the first time that there was a nervous little pulse beating in his cheek.
    He passed his hand over his hair.
    “I didn’t mean to tell you this way. I wanted to wait until my sister