Paths of Glory

“Did you really think so?” asked George.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” said Lee. “Now all we have to pray for is that the critics love you as much as the public does. By the way, have you ever come across Estelle Harrington before?”

“Estelle Harrington?” repeated George.

“The dame who asked if you were going to lead the next expedition.”

“No, I’ve never seen her before in my life,” said George. “Why do you ask?”

“She’s known as the cardboard-box widow,” said Lee. “Her late husband, Jake Harrington, the inventor of the cardboard box, left her so much money she can’t even count it.” Lee inhaled deeply and puffed out a plume of smoke. “I’ve read a ton of stuff about her in the gossip columns over the years, but I never knew she took any interest in climbing. If she was willing to sponsor the tour, we wouldn’t have to worry about The New York Times.”

“Is it that important?” asked George.

“More important than all the other papers put together.”

“So when will it deliver its verdict?”

“In a few hours’ time,” replied Lee, blowing out another cloud of smoke.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

“THE WORKERS’ EDUCATIONAL Association,” said Geoffrey Young as they strolled around the garden.

“I’ve never heard of them,” said Ruth.

“It was founded in the early days of the Labor movement, and its aim is to assist people who weren’t given the chance of a decent education in their youth, but would benefit from it in later life.”

“That sounds very much in line with George’s Fabian principles.”

“In my opinion,” said Geoffrey, “the job was made for him. It would allow George to combine his teaching experience with his views on politics and education.”

“But would it also mean us having to move to Cambridge?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But I can think of worse places to live,” responded Geoffrey. “And don’t forget that George still has a lot of old friends there.”

“I think I should warn you, Geoffrey, that George is becoming quite anxious about what he describes as his financial predicament. In his latest letter he hinted that the tour wasn’t going quite as well as he’d hoped.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Young. “However, I do know that the basic salary for the job is three hundred and fifty pounds a year, with the opportunity to earn a further hundred and fifty through extra tuition fees, which would make it up to around five hundred pounds.”

“In that case,” said Ruth, “I think George will jump at the opportunity. When would they want him to start?” she asked.

“Not until next September,” said Young. “Which would mean, dare I mention it, that George could even reconsider—”

“Not now, Geoffrey,” Ruth said, as they walked back toward the house. “Let’s discuss that particular matter over dinner. For now, why don’t you go and unpack, and then join me in the drawing room around seven.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, Ruth.”

“Oh yes we do,” she replied as they strolled back into the house.

“Taxi!” shouted Keedick, and when it screeched to a halt he opened the back door to allow his client to climb in. Harry and his Caddie were nowhere to be seen.

“So, how bad is it?” asked George as he slumped down in the back seat.

“Not good,” admitted Lee. “Even though The New York Times gave you a favorable review, the out-of-town bookings have still been”—he looked out of the window—“let’s say, disappointing, although you seem to have attracted at least one huge fan.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, George, you must have noticed that Estelle Harrington’s turned up to every one of your lectures. I’d be willing to bet good money she’ll be there again tonight.”