All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

_ midnight. very eloquently. She. ‘merely gazed at Je- rome and smiled. Frothingham walked up and down the room and raved. “We agreed that it could not happen!”’ he panted. Suddenly he turned to Jerome. “Now that you have wrecked our pet theory and given us several days of trouble besides,” he said, “‘ perhaps you will con- sider your revenge complete and will leave us. Millicent, come away from that man.” As if in reply to this command, Jerome placed his arm about the girl’s waist and said calmly: _ “When I go, my wife will go with me.’ “Your wife!” howled Frothingham. Josephine sighed complacently. She had been right, after all. Pendleton collapsed on the sofa and gasped for breath. ‘“‘ Sure,” said Jerome. ‘“ She was waiting for me with the-roadster when I made my escape last night. I didn’t expect to get away so early, but she was there. We drove over to the county seat, were mar- ried, and were back here a little after We had no trouble getting back to our rooms. You were all very much en- grossed in your notes in the library.” “Well, I'll be swizzled!” snorted Froth- — ingham. “TI tell you such a thing can’t happen. I’m asleep and dreaming, that’s all. ) Jerome produced a marriage-certificate. “Say,” queried Frothingham weakly, “who in thunderation are you, anyhow?” U a Sage oe *¢ Jerome ‘Winters, a mining engineer _ from Denver, as I have told you from the start,” replied Jerome. “Do you know that this love-affair is a positive crime against decent literature and drama?” inquired Frothingham. outrage. It has happened only once in similar circumstances, and that was in a foo] novel called ‘ Cupid—Kidnaper,’ writ- ten by some gawk who didn’t care how he wounded the pride of his contemporaries. You have read the frightful thing, I sup- pose?” “Yes,” said Jerome; ‘‘ I wrote it.” “You!” exclaimed Josephine. we have got you there. That silly thing was written by a man named Eugene Bry- ant.” “My pen-name,” said Jerome. ‘I dash off a good seller occasionally, just for relax- ation.” “Well, I'll be damned!” roared Froth- ingham. “Qh, hardly that,” replied Jerome. “You have really done me a good turn, old chap. Well, good-by, everybody. We’re going to Denver to-night. Thank you for a glorious time.” And Jerome and Millicent went out, arm in arm. “What would the young man do?” hissed Frothingham sarcastically. ‘“They’re liable to do anything, in real life,” yawned Pendleton, ‘‘ I’m glad I write only farces. I’m going back to bed.” Uv U A LOVER’S PRAYER | BY LESLIE RAMON OU, who hold for us A fate unseen, Guide and shape our destiny while here To sacred keep our troth. And when the mantled reaper, At Your bidding, walks between This life and Your beyond, Let him not cast his shroud O’er one alone, but both. ‘STt’s an— “Oh, no; ' i . cA y a ‘ Kiint é wer" at [ io A) oat a PAL ly Ahi Hi? \ ‘ ; 4 Le ials hd \ EY AWA 7 et ; Hal ' f a y * fet : rBY Was 4 AT ba ‘1 s\ MPR OPE Ay) APO dN I fay ee aly ie ar ’ Hi) Th f Gabe i Miah? fy ie 4, ie ‘ By LATE Ae ea es TA A es i 3 9 - oko ’) e% ba Dal) “ ah: 7 eka WM 4 , Wh be aye ote p's iPod Dia LA aL ae WTS CP ty Weacr ee fleet be tere ALR Ol Sid neath Bao a ea ahi aad ia'y y Rare! ate Die USAR Ie : WHA Cen 1145 ate 4 y > wi ‘ t a ‘ we cA? Ny we f . wl ‘rh ‘ : ae Ne Nf if als ‘ . HY \'h NM), Maal hl | , Onn CAN tar ,+ n