Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

60 faceg and the women that have them are soon tiresome. There was a strangeness about Zoronna’s face that scarcely admitted the use of the word “beauty.” One was not likely to think of her as pretty; nor did Lord Bob’s descriptive phrase of “tempestuous little devil” entirely convey her personality. Her hair was black, bobbed and inclined toward curls. It was not only black, but glossily black; so I suppose that nature had been assisted in giving it that sheen. The mysteries of milady’s toilet are unknown to me, but they are wonderful. When she came into the room she wore a band woven of gold with a large red stone in the front; at the side a small cluster of red stones formed the buckle, from which rose a shim- meringly black aigret. There was a theatrical air of unreality about her that was greatly increased by her eyes, which were vividly tawny, almost yellowish; such eyes as some cats have and a few Gipsies. Nor was it their color that fascinated, but rather the play of expression in them. : Her personality, such as it was, wilful, audacious, artful, was reflected in every gesture, every feature, every bit of adorn- ment and dress; but her eyes were a lan- guage in themselves. She could say almost anything she wished without speaking; yet she spoke readily enough. | Her mouth was blood red, too red for beauty, but uncolored, ‘unpainted. I will not pretend that I know that; I know that Lord Bob, who though madly in love with her was too cynical to lie about a woman’s beauty, swore that the lips were just as the devil made them. Her complexion was slightly sun-colored, not quite so dark as aged vellum. The cheek-bones were high, prominent, the nose inclined to be broad. I would have guessed, almost at a second glance, that there was a tincture of Asiatic blood in her, and the -merest suggestion of a slant to her eyes. One did not notice this at the time so much as remember it. I knew but one other woman whose eyes had that almost imperceptible slant; it was her jewels that I had in the soft broad belt about my waist. Zoronna wore a dark, very dark, purple- brocaded satin evening cloak. She pushed _ this open and placed her fingers to her hip as she stood waiting for me to say some- thing. She had removed the glove from Adventure that hand; the fingers were loaded with rings. She slapped the long white glove impatiently as I took so much time to.reply. t would have taken an hour to look at her carefully; there was a bewildering rich- ness and brilliancy about her dress. The cloak was lined, with black silk; her dress was of an ebony black and flaming yellow. “‘T must know where Lord Bob is,” she said. Her eyes were on me studiously, as if rapidly discovering all about me prepara- tory to putting me into some one of the classified pigeon-holes into which women poke all the men they know. I assured her that I could not tell her the first thing as to his whereabouts. With a gesture and a flash of her eyes, and not a sound, she seemed to ask point- edly— “Can’t, or won’t?” It may have been imagination on my. part; but I explained that I did not know where he could be found, and did not have the least idea of when he could be expected to come back. “But he said if I ever wanted him he would be here!” There was a queenly petulancy in her tone, and she looked—or seemed to lobk— appraisingly at me. I did not say that I would be glad to be of service. I did not offer to substitute for Lord Bob. I did not even ask her to sit down. I had stood up when she came in, and I thought it concession enough if I re- mained standing. “What shall I do?” she demanded, not helplessly—far from it—there was nothing helpless in the manner or personality of that woman; but she commanded rather than demanded. I suggested that she leave any message she wished, and I would see that it reached Lord Bob as soon as he came through the door. “That wouldn’t do. I must have him to- night. Now. I simply must. He prom- ised to be ready any moment that I wanted him. You are Mr. Richards? Bob has told me of you.” I hoped, but inaudibly, that he had not told the truth. When a man is mad over a woman a little thing like a pledge of secrecy made to a friend will not keep him silent. It is unreasonable to suppose that such a pledge should when he throws away money, life and soul. COmicloo “A ) CO