Pulp Fiction, 1931 · page 27 of 68
10-Story Book, July 1931 — page 27: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a story page from a pulp magazine featuring prose fiction titled "Two Gentlemen at Forty" by August W. Derleth, illustrated with two sketch drawings of men in conversation. The visible text depicts Peter Austin, a man in his forties, looking at himself in a mirror and reflecting on his appearance, then calling his old friend Michael Bourne at a hotel to arrange an evening meeting. The narrative includes their brief telephone conversation where Michael suggests they meet around ten o'clock. Peter then adjusts a radio to listen to classical music—a pianist performing Debussy's *Clair de lune*—while waiting. The story appears to explore themes of old friendship and nostalgia. The page concludes with "(Continued to page 27)."
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
S HE saw himself in the glass, Peter A Austin thought, I am still as hand- some at forty as I ever was. He backed away from the glass a little and stood there looking at himself. Then he made a wry face, went over to the table, and took up the monophone. He called a number, and presently he heard a voice at the other end of the wire. “Jessica? I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to get over tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps.” He put the instrument down quickly, so that he would not be able to hear her reproaches. Then he regarded the walls of the room in silence for some moments. He was thinking, Should I call him, or not? He walked up and down, from one room to another, wondering. It was seven years now, and somehow Peter Austin had never been able to forget. At last he went back to the table, took up the telephone book and leafed through the pages to find the number of the hotel where he was staying. Then he called the number and asked for Mr. Michael Bourne. There was some delay, then at last came a voice. “Michael?” he asked. “Mr. Bourne’s secretary. I say is calling?” “Peter.” “Peterf’ “Right!” Damn the fellow, anyway. Now there was a longer delay, but at Whom shall last Peter Austin heard Michael Bourne’s voice. “Hello, Peter.” “Hello, Michael. How are you?” “As always. And your” “The same. I should like awfully to see you tonight. If you can spare the time from your new book.” “Oh, I never work when I’m in the city, Peter.” “Well, come up, then. There'll be just you and I,” There was a pause which Peter Austin did not like. Then Michael again, “Say, about ten. Is that all right?’ “Any time you choose, Michael.” “Good. At ten, then.” Peter Austin went back to the mirror and looked at himself very attentively. He could not help reflecting how well he looked with a good tan. Thank the Lord for the summer sun, he thought. He went over to a little cabinet, where he turned on the radio with one hand, and took a cedar box of some proportions from a drawer with the other. He bent to ma- nipulate the dials of the radio, so that the music would come clearer. He stood to listen for a moment. A pianist playing Debussy’s Clair de lune. Now an announcer. Mr. Leopold Godowsky having finished, the orchestra would play the Sacre du Printemps. (Continued to page 27) CORNICIOOKS.E© im