Life, 1896-09-17 · page 11 of 18
Life — September 17, 1896 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis This page contains a serialized short story titled "Jack Oliver," She Said" by Louis Evan Shipman, illustrated with line drawings. The narrative depicts a romantic/dramatic encounter between two characters—a man and a woman named Polly. The story involves the man's romantic pursuit, Polly's initial resistance and evasion, and their verbal sparring about courtship and marriage proposals. The illustrations show the pair in intimate conversation—the man seated on a bench, the woman standing. This is **not political satire or cartooning**, but rather a melodramatic fiction piece typical of Life magazine's literary content. The page demonstrates how Life balanced satirical commentary with serialized stories for early-20th-century readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
* LIFE: don’t you eat all my supper,” I added, stepping off through the palms. I would have fed him for a year if he had made that the condition for his staying ! ‘*Helloa, Wadsworth; how dye do, Miss Ellis?" said I, coming suddenly upon a couple who evidently thought that a small fern covered a multitude of things, for he was holding both her hands. ‘* Have you seen Miss Ransom to-night ?” “* Nope,” replied Wadsworth shortly, and I moved away. Inspiration seized me a moment later, however, and I sped to the library. She was there. “Polly,” I said, softly tip- tocing to the back of her chair. “You have come at last, have you?” she said, looking around slowly, and without any show of surprise or glad- ness. “At last.” answered I, choosing to take what comfort I could of that! “You have been wait- ing for me, then?” “Yes.” The curtness of this was ominous. “But I've beensearch- ing all over for you.” “Do you call supping with the Roches search- ing ‘all over’ for me?” “Oh, Polly,” I burst out angrily, for this last was too much, “you ought to know better.” “T shall in the fu- ture.” “You don’t think I came here to see Ethel Roche ?” asked I. ‘It's too preposterous.” ** You took her into supper, didn’t you?” “* Yes, but I escaped ; I'm here.” “Oh, I wouldn't say nasty things behind her back.” “Why won’t you understand ?” I begged. ‘* Because I don’t want to,” said Miss Perversity ; and then my rueful face must have struck her as funny, for she laughed out gaily. “Confess,” she said, ‘' you fell asleep at the club.” ‘Nothing of the kind; I have been on a vital errand.” ‘Pray, where?” asked she, with mocking lips. “To your house.” “To my house?” “Yes. I saw your father.” “Did he give you a prescription? You had better look out, your errand may prove mortal instead of vital.” ‘That depends entirely on you, Polly; for I love you and I went to ask the Doctor if I might.” There was a gleam in her eyes that meant everything, and I wanted to take her in my arms, but she sprang to her feet and stood away from me. “JACK OLIVER,” SHE SarD. *'T trust he gave you a satisfactory answer.” “He told me ‘yes,’ Polly, and now I want you to tell me ‘yes.’ I took a step toward her and she took a step back. ‘“* Jack Oliver,” she said, and there was a curious litle tone in her voice that startled me; ‘I should have thought any one who had made love to as many women as you have would know that they don’t care about receiving proposals of marriage by proxy. Ask the girl herself next time.” And before I could stop her she had swept me a little curtsy and left the room. I glanced out the window on the brilliant night; my lucky star had stopped twinkling. Louis Evan Shipman. comicbooks.com