Adventure Magazine Cover — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

The Road taken off his jacket for coolness. The courtly instinct to use it as a protection of Katrine’s skirt from Uiko’s unlovely boards had been wanting. Katrine herself had made the suggestion—bluntly she had asked for it. _ But she realized the value the incident might be made to have in Lucia Gessi’s eyes and she had seen to it that the incident: was made the most of. It was at her-bid- ding that Agnew had folded the jacket this way and that with sedulous precision; it was she who had taken care that their hands met more than once during this pro- cess; it was she, again, who had expressed her thanks with gestures and smiles which were well within eye-range from the wharf. She settled back upon the apology for a seat, well content. She had begun well. It gave her courage to continue. Agnew, for the next few minutes, re- mained silent. He rowed strongly, with leisured strokes, away from the morass and out across the open center of the lake toward the farther shore. Stillness, calm, and a sense of expectancy seemed to hold the evening hours for their own. An instinct that she was seeking his eyes suddenly possessed Agnew’s mind. ‘The quick desire to prove himself strong to meet her glance, to meet it with imper- turbability, rose within him. He looked up. ‘“‘T- wished to speak to you—without a chance of being overheard,”’ she said slowly. “That was why I accepted your invitation —which you never meant to give!” she added, with the faint echo of a laugh. The color mounted into his cheek. ‘I’m afraid I’m tactless,” he confessed. ‘‘It was Uiko who suggested the row, with himself as oarsman. But I was—was glad to take his place.” ‘“‘No, I think that last is not true,” she said gravely. “But even that did not pre- vent my holding you to your word. As I say, I wanted to speak to you—alone.” He frowned. “I meant that your— your treatment of me would not prevent my behaving myself toward you with— with politeness, I hope.” For a moment she was silent. ‘And how have I treated you?” she asked. He rowed with a jerkiness that implied irritation. ‘‘We might agree not to discuss that,” he said frigidly. ‘Perhaps my sim- ple-mindedness is to blame. You had need of an interview with me—away from possi- ble eavesdroppers? ” 907 She nodded. ‘Judgment has gone forth and there is no appeal?” she answered. “I thought men—as opposed to women— prided themselves on their justice?”’ “Yes,” he said, ‘‘and also on their power to weigh evidence. Some scarcely needs weighing—it is conclusive.” “No!” she cried quickly. ‘‘Evidence, circumstantial evidence, is never conclu- sive, because other evidence may modify or destroy its value. You should hear all— or nothing.” ““Can’t we be satisfied to differ?’”’ he asked doggedly. “No; because I have a favor to ask you— one which implies so intimate a situation between us that I can not afford to risk your—your dislike.” His expression was puzzled—and inter- ested. She took her courage in her hands. “You must learn—to pay me attentions,” she said, meeting his eyes frankly. ceata HE STARTED and nearly missed ye astroke. His silence was the silence con’. of amazement. “You must learn that lesson, and learn to act upon it with naturalness. You will be under a supervision which will not easily be deceived.”’ Surprise still lit his face, but, at her last sentence, it softened at the touch of some hidden emotion—perhaps remembrance. ‘‘Learn?” he said quietly. “Or relearn? That last is hardest.”” He hesitated—and then the lines of his face grew grim again. ‘‘Am I suddenly become necessary to your—pleasure? Has this place bored you to such a point as that? Why not leave it?”’ Her heart gave a queer throb—of pain, of humiliation, but of hope as well. For she had read his eyes—heard the relenting in his voice. ‘‘Relearn,’ he had said, dwelling upon the word with a reminiscent note that touched somewhere near to— tenderness? His pride had stifled it in a moment, but it was there! Could she blow upon those dying embers and light again the flame which Fate and circumstance had conspired to stifle? “T am asking nothing for myself,” she said. ‘I am asking much for my father, for the road, for—for you.” He drew himself together with a gesture that seemed like wincing. The passing glint of emotion had vanished from his face. © MICLOOOKS (©