Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

THE WHISPERER. paused at the door, and then went sick with disgusted disappointment. It was Vincent St. Gore who sat at the piano. He turned a blank face upon her, finished his passage faultlessly, and then rose. | “ The bass,’”’ he said, ‘‘ is in good shape, but the whole upper register is a shade out of tune—fiat.” She merely stared helplessly at him. He had passed to an Indian basket suspended from the ceiling near a window and holding a flower-pot full of crimson blossoms marked with streaks of jet. The large petals were like velvet. Now he turned the basket so that the sunshine in turn streamed softly over each flower—turned it with a lingering delight, and the expression of his face was such as she had seen when he first saw the flowers in the patio. + “Jsn’t it strange?” he said, turning to her, “‘ that such a rough creature as yotr cousin Gregory should keep flowers. Or perhaps it’s his wife?”’ “YT think,” said Patricia dryly, “ that they are both capable of appreciating flowers.”’ “ Really?” he said, and as usual, when aroused, he shifted his spectacles and peered through them at her. ‘* Very odd, though, isn’t it, that they should have the pas- sion?” | “Why?” she asked. ‘It was a burden even to listen to him, and a trial of patience. ‘“ Because,” he answered, “it’s out of harmony. They love one beautiful thing, and all the rest is discord.”’ ‘“‘ Perhaps,” said Patricia, ‘they have other qualities just as important.” ‘‘ Impossible,” said Goggles, and shook his head decisively. “‘ There are no others as important as the love of beauty.” “If you feel that way,”.said Patricia, “I wonder that you can tolerate these peo- ple. ” “Quite right,” answered Goggles, nod- ding seriously, ‘“‘ but I don’t tolerate them, you see. I see no more of them than I do of individual clouds when all the sky is dark. I don’t talk like this to them— oh, never!” ‘“¥t would be unhealthy for you if you did, perhaps,” said Patricia scornfully. _to expect. No, a woman rarely develops. 455 “Would it?” said Goggles, and canted his head thoughtfully to one side. “ Yes, I suppose these creatures would resent criticism with physical violence.” He‘shrugged his shoulders; it was a shud- der of aversion which shook his entire body. ‘‘ However,” he said, “ I have never both- ered talking with them about these things. It.would be ,like sowing the wind, don’t you think?” “ Exactly,” said Patricia ‘and hike reap- ing the whirlwind afterward, eh?’’ | “I don’t quite’ follow you there,” said Goggles, ‘“ unless you rhean that they might actually strike me? Dear me! I suppose that is possible. One never knows what Not in these wilds. However with you there is some difference.” ‘“ Hope for me?” asked Patricia. He considered her with that thought ful- ly canted head. _ ‘““T should really warn you,” he smiled, ‘that I’ve acquired a brutal frankness out here in the mountain-desert.”’ “I’m so glad,” said Patricia. one—”’ She stopped, but Goggles finished the sentence smoothly for her. “The one manly characteristic you’ve found in me? Quite so! Oh, I don’t in the least mind people saying such things to me. I’ve grown quite used to them.” And he smirked at her. She had to grip her hands to keep from striking him across the thin- lipped mouth. “You were saying,” she renerked that there may be a hope for me?”’ “Did I say that? I didn’t mean to. She is, on the whole, a fixed quantity, and only varies in vanity. You don’t mind, do you? I’m quite impersonal.” | ‘ My dear Mr. St. Gore,” sighed Patricia, “nothing you say can possibly offend me. Go on!” ‘* Now isn’t that comfortable! ”” breathed the little man. “I foresee some charming chats with you. You have possibilities, I should say, rather of appreciation than of execution. You would not in the least sur- prise me, for instance, if I heard you dis- cuss an art with intelligence, but I should ““Tt’s the * CONMUC OOOLK (CO \,