Adventure Magazine Cover — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

sir Galahad and the Badger She knew the dark alleyways and turn- ings of the city, its danger places, both those gay and bleak; also she knew men—her specialty was men. Almost any woman, if her credit is good at the dressmaker's, can pick up almost any man; but either out of excess of caution or through vanity of her art she set out to hook Jack without letting him know that he was being caught. And though she appeared almost magi- cally before him she took no notice of him at all. He saw the puzzled, worried look on her pretty face as she examined her bag, pushed back her cloak and fumbled in her pockets, looked here and there, even about her feet. As he watched he saw that the tears were almost ready to come. But she had not glanced at him. She was un- aware of his existence. But of course it was plain what had ape pened. The poor girl had lost her purse. Perhaps she didn’t have even carfare. A girl, alone, in a big, dismal city, raining midnight; the very pavement under her daintily shod feet should have felt pangs of sympathy. Jack did, anyway. He had plenty of nerve but not much gall. If he had held off a little longer she would have spoken to him, but he did not know that. So he put his hat in his hand and tried to look fatherly as he spoke to her. She drew back, a little startled. It looked very much as if she was going to misunderstand his intentions. He hastened to assure her that he hoped she would pardon him, but she seemed dis- tressed. Perhaps she had lost something? Could he be of help? She regarded him wide-eyed with slow, doubtful appraisal, as if a little afraid; which made him feel even more apologetic. She was really very pretty and quite young. He did not notice that her face was rather thin, nose small and narrow, and that there were faint hardening lines about her small rosebud mouth. One look at her and any New York cop would have had her number, though he per- haps could net have told just what dis- tinguishing marks gave him the hunch. But Jack was about as far from having the wisdom of a New York copper as he was from having the age of Methuselah. She seemed a little reassured, and said, “I must have lost it,” then glanced around as if there was a chance of picking up the lost 93 article. Hervoice was sweet with-a faint “thrilling echo of baby-talk in it. ‘You have lost something?” He was all concern, and, putting his hat on, came a-step nearer. Also he looked about the pavement as if to find a lost something, too. ‘‘My purse—it isn’t here,” and she held up a small velvet bag to show where the purse should have been. ‘‘I—aw—ah—.”’ he said. ‘IT can’t imagine how——” SHE left the sentence suspended Ag and looked straight at him as if = hopeful that he could imagine and Ww ould tell her. He could not help but see that she had dark eyes, theugh from under her snug little fur toque were dampened wisps of yellow hair. Her eyes were wide and staring. She looked almost like a lost little child in a great big forest, which made him feel very protective and gallant. ‘“T would like—you know—like to help you—anyway.”’ She drew back a littlhe—not much, but just enough to give a suggestion of hesi- tancy; and he hastened to assure her that it would be all right. He didn’t mean a thing. He was nervous and excited, though he came from a family whose men were almost notoriously cold-blooded and unexcitable. “But I only want to get home. It is most unusual for me to be down-town at night, and— My purse— I don’t know what I shall do if— She had a way of ending the sentences vaguely, leaving them dangling in the air and as she stood with lips parted slightly and eyes very wide and trustful he could not do a thing less than offer to take her home. Which was precisely what she had known all the time that he would do. In his eagerness to do just that it did not eccur to him that he might have advanced a small sum by way of good-samaritanism, and that the present of taxi fare should have been more acceptable to her than his company. But perhaps if youth were sensible and wise and suspicious and cau- tious, then the pleasure of being young and lusty would be lost. One might as well be born middle-aged and dyspeptic. Some- how youth seems to carry its own pardon cCOmiclboolks C©