Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

512 “of selecting some interesting topic, such as why did Babylon fall? Or why is modern civilization headed straight for perdition?” “They are out,” said Gerald promptly. ‘I am not a highbrow. Il don’t want to be a highbrow, I thought you said the evening was for relaxa- tion. Wait!” he cried. “I have an idea! I have a flock of new dance records and a little victrola. We’ll roll back the rugs and dance!’ “But I don’t dance!” Susan wailed. “Do you mean to tell me,” he gasped, “that there is one thing you can’t dor” “JT think you're very unkind,” said Susan. “I’ve only been trying to be helpful. I was raised to consider the sloth with contempt, and I’ve been taught that moths who flutter about the flame always end by scorching their poor wings. Frivolous thoughts and actions lead but to sin.” “They usually pass around the col- lection plate after great, big, fine, clean thoughts like those have been turned loose,” Gerald remarked. ‘I can see plainly that one side of your education has been sadly neglected. You have more—vastly more—to learn frgm me than I have to learn from you. Thank God it’s all settled. We will dance to- night. You're a fairly bright girl, and it shouldn’t take you long to learn the simpler steps of the fox trot, the Charleston, and the rudimentary move- ment of the Black Bottom.” “What do you mean—rudimentary movement of the Black Bottom?” Susan demanded. “Tf you have double-jointed hips,” Gerald answered, “the rudimentary movement is easy, but you'll do very well with the equipment you have.” Susan looked alarmed. “Tt doesn’t sound quite proper.” — “ That’s what a lot of people think,” he agreed cheerfully. “Shall we dress for dinner now?” “Dress for dinner!” he gasped. “On Kitikat Key?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Why not? Don’t people always dress for dinner when they live among savages?” “Very well,” Gerald acquiesced; “we will dress for dinner. Have you a dress that does not touch your in- steps?” ‘I have not,” said Susan with dig- nity, “and I will not wear such dis-~ graceful dresses.” When they parted for dinner, Ger- ald felt much better. He didn’t hate Susan Finch as much as he thought he had; she was, in fact, a really likable - girl. To be sure, she knew too much, and she treated him as if she were a school-teacher and he were a backward seven-year-old child; but she didn’t know everything, after all. She didn’t know how to dance. His estimation of her continued to rise until he met her in the living room, and then it soared upward in a leap. Susan, in a black evening gown, scintillating with brilliants, though it was foolishly high at the neck and in the back, and ridiculously long, was an inspiration and a delight. She had ar- ranged her hair in an entirely different way again, and, while she had not used an atom of make-up, there was about her an alluring, romantic air. The black made her seem slimmer than ever, and it set off the golden charm of her arms. He realized, when they met, that Susan was not merely a pretty girl; she was beautiful, and he realized, too, that it would have been a shame, in a way, for her to have at- tempted to be modern. There was about her a serenity, a dignity, lacking in the modern flapper. After dinner he rolled back the rugs and started the victrola. Susan didn’t, it appeared, know the first thing about modern dancing. She tripped over his feet. She became flustered. And she flatly refused to attempt the Black Bottom. She called it atrocious. But she was no longer the self-assured school-teacher; the swimming expert; the gas engine authority. She might 5A Miebooks:¢ ~~ Sat = ‘~~ he . he } f , ~ at fee 4 — + - ¢ * — e, Pn “Bey >