Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

> 400 ' She forgot the rattling of the storm, the sullen danger, the menace that had palsied her forces a little while before. She for- got everything tangible, as her imagination traveled with Fenwick through realms she loved in dreams. At last his voice grew misty, remote— and ceased. Judith slept like a child, curled up on the carpet, her head against Fen- wick’s knees. Suddenly, divining from her deep, regu- lar breathing that she was asleep, Stephen fell silent. His hand stole down, softly touching her hair, lingeringly yet fearfully lest the touch waken her. All that was best in the man was upper- most.. He whose creed it had been to serve himself now found altruistic delight in serv- ing the need of this waif, in helping her in a dark hour. He smoothed her hair gently, with rever- ence. She stirred faintly. He withdrew his hand and he sat there musing, looking down. He could not see her, but he heard her rhythmic breathing in the darkness. Though his legs grew cramped, he did not stir. After awhile he too fell asleep. The gray of dawn, struggling through the portholes, found them still sleeping. He wakened first, and, sitting there quietly, gazed down at her, his wonder girl with the beautiful tumbled hair. His senses searched adjustment. He looked about the salon. Clear rays of light streamed in at the portholes; the motion of the yacht was no longer violent; there was a steady roll, but he could feel the reassuring thrum of the engines. The voice of the storm was stilled, and now from somewhere above came the cheery call of a seaman. _A glow of thankfulness warmed his spirit. He leaned over and touched Judith upon the shoulder, smiling down at her as she stirred and opened her bewildered eyes. “Little girl,” said Stephen softly, “it is dawn, and the storm is over.” She stared at him a moment in bewilder- ment, and then heaved a great sigh as she started to rise. His hand assisted her. “J went to sleep,” she cried. ‘‘ What do you know about that?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, Quite casually Judith accepted the fact of her safety. With the whimsical reflection that it was not very much as yet that he knew about that, or her either, Fenwick answered smilingly as he watched her lithe figure as she drew herself up to her full height to remove the ache from her cramped mus- cles: “I slept deeply myself; just awoke this instant. You'd like to go to your state- room now, I fancy.” Judith nodded. ‘Then breakfast, and will you come and have it with me?” Yes,” assented Judith, “if you want me to.” “J do indeed. = about half an hour, in the dining salon. How would this menu - suit you: Thin bacon, fried crisp, eggs, hot corn muffins, a cereal, and coffee?” He stood there, his hair tousled, his clothing crumpled and crushed; but his spirits were buoyant, his eyes bright and dancing with the smile that irradiated his whole ugly, fascinating face. ‘I'd like all them things,” conceded Ju- dith smilingly. They had weathered the storm together; there still remained, after the terrible despair of the night, life—life to devote to love, work, happiness. He felt an almost irresistible impulse to take her in his arms. A saving memory of the sexlessness of her yielding the previous night came to him. She had come to trust him; he instinctively knew that she did not love him in the way he loved her. Love, the divine madness of the gods, must bide until later. ‘“T guess we almost got drowneded, didn’t we?” she questioned gravely. She sensed something different about him; he seemed to have telepathically com- municated to her his mastery of himself, the fruition of some hitherto latent power, born perhaps of the danger of the night. ‘Yes, almost, I think,” he replied in a tone as grave as her own. She looked at him a moment meditative- ly. In her mind a thought was forming. She mulled it over a moment then it found expression. “T guess you like people that you almost OA COME NNO <S con