Pulp Fiction, 1922 · page 27 of 126
Photoplay Magazine Cover — page 27: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Content Description This is a story page from an early-20th-century pulp magazine featuring "The Last Straw" by Adela Rogers St. Johns, illustrated by R. Van Baren. The page contains both prose narrative and a sketch illustration of a woman in period dress sitting on what appears to be a bed or couch. The visible story text describes a domestic scene involving characters named Lucy Beresford and Hugh, depicting a moment of marital tension involving coffee-making and newspaper complaints. The narrative focuses on their morning interaction, with Hugh criticizing Lucy's ability to make coffee and manage household tasks, while Lucy attempts to please him despite his complaints.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Beet Straw v, An entertaining illustrating again the adage that the worm —in this case the pretty, patient wife of a pompous film star—wvill eventually turn By ADELA ROGERS ST. JOHNS Illustrated by R. Van Buren *WUCY! Lu-ce-eee!” The ting-aling of a little bell. Then, “Luc-ee-eee?” Lucy Beresford winced, swallowed a final bite of egg, grinned and flew to the stove, where she lighted the gas under the coffee pot. Hugh simply couldn't bear coffee made in a per- colator. In fact, he often declared that his old col- ored mammy used to say a coffee pot should be colored just like a meerschaum pipe. Lucy went to the foot of the back stairs and called sweetly, “Yes dear. Coffee in just a minute. It’s getting hot.” A moment’s silence. Then the voice from above declared, ‘“‘Too damn bad it couldn't be hot. when I wake up. Yow know, Lucy, what I’m like in the morning before I’ve had my coffee. And for good- ness’ sake, have the toast hot, too, and see if you can find a ripe melon.” Without waiting to hear the end, Lucy had returned swiftly to the stove and with tiny, deft hands made the toast, buttered it with sweet butter, and chose a melon from the basket on the back porch. She was a pretty, trim little woman with big, dark serene eyes and a humorous mouth. In her morning dress of pink crepe with its white embroidered collar, she was a goodly sight for the eyes of any man to rest upon when he arose in the morning. But Hugh Beresford failed of so much as a glance in her direction when she came in a moment later, bearing the tray with its steaming fragrant coffee, crisp toast and _ice-filled, golden-hearted melon. He was absorbed in his paper. “Where’s the Times?” he asked briefly. “Tt’s not come yet, dear.” Lucy was arranging the tray on the little swinging table over the bed. « tale of motion picture life, “For a quarter of an hour she sat there sputtering “Tt seems funny, Lucy, that you couldn't even tend to a little thing like my having the papers in the morning. Why don’t you call up the silly office and tell them I must have my paper in the morning by eight? I shouldn't think that would be a great deal of trouble, when you haven't a thing to do all day long.” Lucy shut her lips tightly, then her usual cheerful smile spread over her face. “I did ‘phone, dear. I'll try again to- day. They don’t seem to pay much attention to me, Every- one around here complains of their delivery service.” The man threw down the paper in his hands and sat up in bed, his handsome brown eyes snapping. “Lucy, don’t argue with me. Please don’t. You know how I hate to be argued with in the morning, ’specially before I've had my coffee. Why will you do it?” EORMICLOoOlKS.EO