Chapter 3 Chapter two

Everyone treats me well.Even though I was dazed and overwhelmed, I was grateful for them.I didn't feel overly sad.Dad never loved me, and I know that.If he loves me, I will love him too.No, there is no love between us, but we belong to each other.I took care of him while secretly admiring his knowledge and his dedication to scientific obsession.It saddens me to think that my father passed away at a time when his purpose in life was at its peak.I'd feel better if I could bury him in a cave with paintings of reindeer and stone tools on the walls.Yet public opinion insisted on erecting an exquisite marble tomb in the ugly backyard of the church.Although the pastor's consolation words are rich in meaning, they can't comfort me at all.

It was quite some time before I realized that the freedom I had longed for had finally come. I was an orphan with no money, but I was free.At the same time, I also learned about the unusual kindness of these good people.The curator did his best to persuade me to join his wife.Our little local library suddenly decided to hire an assistant librarian.Finally, the doctor came to me, and after a bunch of ridiculous excuses about not being able to send the bills, he groaned for a while and then suddenly suggested that I should marry him. I was shocked.The doctor was a short, round man in his late forties.He was nothing like the hero of Pamela, much less the silent and strong Rhodesian man.I thought about it, and then asked him why he wanted to marry me.He seemed very flustered, and murmured to himself that a wife would be a great help to the general practitioner.It sounded less romantic than it used to be, yet something inside me seemed to be urging me to accept it.I know that what he has provided me is safety, safety, and a comfortable home.Looking back now, I believe I was wrong about him, that he really loved me.Anyway, my love for romance rejected him.

"You've been very kind to me," I said, "but that's impossible, and I won't marry a man unless I'm madly in love with him." "You don't think—" "No, I don't think so," I said firmly. He sighed. "But, boy, what do you do?" "Go out on an adventure and see the world." I replied without hesitation. "Miss Anne, you are really a child, you don't understand—" "Practical difficulties? Yes, I know, doctor. I'm not a tender schoolgirl—I'm a mercenary, determined shrew! If you marry me, you'll know!"

"I hope you'll reconsider—" "I can not." He sighed again. "I have another suggestion. I have an aunt in Wales who needs help from a young girl. What do you think?" "No, doctor, I'm going to London. What happens elsewhere, London will happen too. I'll keep my eyes open, and then, you'll see, things will turn around! Go on and you'll come from China or elsewhere to get news of me." The next person who came to see me was Mr. Fleming, who was father's solicitor in London, and had come from the city to see me.An avid anthropologist himself, he adored Dad's work.He has a long pale face and a tall, thin build.When I walked into the living room, he stood up, took my hands, and patted them affectionately.

"Poor boy," he said, "my poor boy." Unconsciously false, I found myself acting like the orphan he had me hypnotized to be.He was fatherly and kind, and there was no doubt that he thought of me as an innocent girl left alone to face a cruel world.From the very beginning I felt that it was useless to try to make him understand the opposite.The upshot is: maybe it's just as well if I don't speak. "Son, can you listen to me explain something to you?" "Oh, yes." "As you know, your father was a great man. The next generation will appreciate him. But he was not a good businessman."

I understood that quite well, though not as well as Mr. Fleming, and yet I refrained from saying so.He continued: "I don't think you know much about the facts. I'll try to explain them to you as best I can." He gave a long and unnecessary explanation.As it turned out, my father left me only eighty-seven pounds seventeen shillings and four pence to live on.This seems to be a satisfactory amount.I waited with trepidation for what he would say next.I'm afraid Mr. Fleming will say that he has an aunt who lives in Scotland and needs a bright girl for company.However, apparently he didn't say that.

"The problem," he went on, "is the future. I know you have no living relatives, do you?" "No, I'm the only one left." I said.I suddenly felt that I was in the same situation as the heroine in the film. "Do you have any friends?" "Everyone has been nice to me," I said gratefully. "Who can't be nice to a young and attractive girl like you?" said Mr. Fleming courteously. How about you staying with us for a while?" I can't wait to take this opportunity.London!A place where anything can happen! "It's very kind of you," I said. "Can I really go? I just don't know where to go. You know, I've got to start making a living for myself."

"Yes, yes, boy. I know all too well. We'll get a proper job." I have an intuition that what Mr. Fleming has in mind for "proper work" is probably quite different from mine, but of course this is not the time to reveal my own. "That's it, then. Why don't you come back with me today?" "Oh, thank you, but will Mrs. Fort—" "My wife will be delighted to welcome you." I wonder if husbands know their wives as well as they think they do.If I had a husband, I'd hate him for bringing an orphan home without consulting me. "We'll call her when we get to the station," the lawyer continued.

In no time my few personal belongings were packed, and I gazed mournfully at it before putting on my hat.I called this hat a 'Mary' hat, meaning the kind of hat a maid should wear when she's out during the day - but it's not!It was just a soft hat made of rye straw with a moderately pressed down brim.With a kind of genius inspiration, I kicked it, hammered it twice, dented the top of the hat, and then glued a piece of it like a "jazz carrot" in the dream of a cubist artist.It turned out to be very stylish and chic.Of course, I've already taken that piece of carrot, and now I'm about to destroy my masterpiece. The "Mary" hat returned to its original shape, but looked more shapeless and deflated than normal.I should try to make myself look like an orphan in the common sense.I was only vaguely concerned that Mrs. Fleming would accept me, and I hoped my appearance would have the effect of disarming her a little.

Mr. Fleming was also worried, as I knew when we walked up the stairs of a large house in Kensington.Mrs. Fleming greeted me cheerfully.She is a "good wife and mother" type, strong and calm woman.He took me to a clean, chintz-curtained bedroom, wished me to be satisfied, said that the tea would be ready in another fifteen minutes, and told me to help myself. When she came down to the parlour, I heard her say in a slightly higher voice: "Henry, why—" I couldn't hear the rest, but the vitriol in the tone was palpable.A few minutes later, another sentence wafted into my ear, in a more strident voice: "I agree! Of course she's a good-looking girl."

Life is really hard.If you are not good-looking, men will not treat you well, but if you are good-looking, women will not treat you well. After a deep sigh, I started to straighten my hair.I have fine hair, black, really black not ombre, and it covers from my forehead to my ears.I pulled it up without mercy.As for the ears, mine are not bad either, but the beauty and ugliness of ears is out of fashion now.Ears were as popular as the 'Spanish Leg Queen' when Professor Peterson was young.When I was done grooming, I looked almost, unbelievably, like an orphan walking in a file, with a bonnet and little red cape. As I went downstairs, I noticed Mrs. Fleming looking at my bared ears with very kind eyes.Mr. Fleming was a little puzzled.I think he must be saying to himself, "What the hell is the boy doing to himself?" Generally speaking, the day passed like this.We've made arrangements, and I'm going to find something to do right away. In bed, I stared eagerly at my face in the mirror.Am I really good looking?Honestly, I don't think so!I don't have a straight Greek nose, or a rosebud mouth, or any of the pretty parts that should be.A curate once told me that my eyes were like "sunshine trapped in a dark forest," and though he was right, it was just a random quote because they knew too many great words.I'd rather have Irish blue eyes than dull green with yellow spots!However, green is a good color for girly adventurers. I wrapped myself tightly in a black dress, leaving my arms and shoulders exposed, and I brushed back my hair so that it covered my ears.I put a lot of powder on my face so the skin will look fairer than normal.I searched for a long time and finally found an old lipstick and smeared it on my lips, and then I wore a red ribbon around my bare shoulders and a scarlet feather in my hair, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth .I am very happy with my outfit. "Anne the Adventurer," I said aloud, nodding at myself in the mirror: "Anne the Adventurer, Episode 1 - Kensington House!" Girls are really stupid.