All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

742 be frank with you — with five thou- sand dollars in the hope that I could make it fifty thousand inside of six months. But I suppose I’m an ass. I haven't the faintest idea of where to begin, and I’ve wasted one precious week already bothering with—”’ I stopped, finding two brown eyes widely attentive, with a look in them suggesting that their owner did not believe her ears. “You—you have—five thousand! In ready cash?” “ Well — say — forty-five hundred now. Why?” “Wait. I want to think a minute. It’s too splendid for anything!” And she thought a second or two. “If I tell you how you can turn that money into—oh—ever and ever so much more —will you—” Her fingers closed about my own again almost fiercely. I couldn’t laugh. She was so terribly serious about it. “'That’s bribery,’’ I told her, and wondered why my voice was so quiet. “Well, can’t you like me? I think I want you to very much. You're so different from Ralph and—and lots of others I've seen, and I thought it would be splendid if you and I could make a lot of money together right under papa’s nose and run off with it—like Bob Dolliver and Lady Alice.”’ Somehow I got hold of her other hand. I don't know just how it hap- pened; but there we sat, holding hands and looking at each other, coming to an eye-to-eye understanding about things, while the lights upon either side of us went jogging past. That chauffeur knew his business. Then Margaret smiled and the silent spell was broken. ‘““T am not a marrying man,” I said. “Rubbish! I think you’d be very, very good to anybody you liked.” “Thank you. And you are really willing to take the awful chance?” “ Ves.’ No bones about that mon- osyllable. “ All right. I'll tell you what we'll do.” THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. ce Yes? ” I think she came a little nearer to me. “T am to be here at least six months. If at the end of that time I’ve made any money, and you still feel inclined to faint well enough to get away from wherever you are, so as to be able to “meet me at Grant’s Tomb in a taxi without any money—we’ll purchase a license and hunt up a minister. How’s that? a “We don’t need a license in New York State—just the minister,” she advised thoughtfully; and such was the case at the time. . “October, November, December, January, February, March,” she re- peated, loosening her grip -upon my hand to count the months off on her fingers. “Um—no—lI don’t care for March much. Let’s make it December — that’s three months —and have a Christmassy atmosphere. I think that’s long enough—don’t you?” I wasn’t sure, and I suppose my ex- pression said so. “Just think,’ she suggested, and watched my face closely, ‘ I’ve got to play engaged to Ralph all that time!” That startled me. More than that— it hurt! “Yes, I suppose you must,” I agreed. “ And that isn’t very pleasant, is it? But suppose we do make it three months — what are we going to live on? We haven’t even the usual ex- cuse that love will find a way.” She looked up quickly. “ Haven’t we? I think we have if we're not afraid. Listen!” Our hands came together again by the merest accident, and while the taxi rattled on, Margaret told me the story of papa and papa’s friend. CHAPTER VIII. A BRAW NICHT. Ir a man can’t talk safely behind closed doors in his own house, where on earth can he do so? comicloooks.com