Judge — April 12, 1919 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Mexnne Tue Hauntine Suspicions or Every ( at thirty,” he comforted himself. And the plug would be a safe thing to talk of... . A week later he gave her the plug. It was ground to anodd s o that no one else could duplicate its fit in the hole it was made for,” he explained. He hoped she would overlook a nick on the end where his file had slipped. He was only an amateur machinist, you see. She thanked him and accepted his invitation to motor that night. There was one road, little used, of dirt, noiseless when traveled in a well- bred motor like Brumleigh’s. Elms arched it, making delicious gloom. Half way through the leafy tunnel o’ dreams, Brumleigh’s motor stalled, but not before Brumleigh deftly had guided it to the roadside. Once there, some delicious moments ensued, when the two leaned over the open hood to ¢ what was wrong. Of course their hair touched, their hands came to- gether. “Tt’s that switch-plug of mine that rattled out,” he said. The switch-plug replaced, of course they chatted in the cool dusk—chatted of the most unbelievable things. Once as she swayed with laughter at one of his jokes the heady wine of her person- ality began to go to his heart and her healthful, provocative mirth made him irritated with his resolution never to wed a to-be-fat one. “T’ve heard,” she confided on the way home, “of men who stalled their Drown by Nowsas motors on lonely roads at night, so they could flirt. I would not believe it of you, Mr. Brumleigh.” He denied the hinted charge pre- cipitately. In fact he was glad he had escaped so easily and resolved next time to jam that plug in so it would not come out. He meant not to stop under the elms with her again, yet he was afraid he would not. She was so... so. Three nights later they motored together again. Brumleigh hardly knew how the motor took that by- road again, yet he had a delicious feeling as they spun over it, with Arline, silent, snuggled beside him. She said “Are we where we stopped—that other night “Just,” fearsomely. “Let me brush that bug off the speedometer,” and she lean ward to do it... the Brumleigh tooled it to the roadside, made a neat stop. He began to hunt, to see if that plug had jarred loose again. Jt had. ‘Together they searched for the plug, on the car bottom, along the ‘Then they climbed into the car IRL roadside. In vain. again. “Some one will come soon and tow us,” he soothed. She moved closer to him. It was warm under the trees there. Into his vision came, despite the dark, the thoughts of her rose petal skin, her eyes that would glint. He stirred, touched her hand with his. Oddly flesh clung to flesh. He feared to even break the con- tact. He tried thinking of motors, plugs, all things cool and steadying. In vain. She stirred, leaned tow- Axtuosy Our Own Auto-Accessory DerarTMENT The Open Fireplace for Limousines comicbooks.com