Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

402 large denominations; in a word, he did none of the crude things which shock society into delighted attention. And the world gradually realized the depressing truth that John Smith was exactly like his name. He ‘was just a good-natured, kind-hearted, rather stupid, commonplace. His football days had been spent in a little Middle West- ern college; and, worst of all, his money had been inherited. Mrs. Sloan, of course, gave judgment at last. She said: “He is never in the way, and on account of Valerie he will never be out of the way.” Society swallowed hard and agreed with Mrs. Sloan, as usual. But it was impossible to bury Valerie Eloise St. Vincent in the chasm of “ Mrs. Smith.” Nature rebelled at the boundary. She had not wrought this perfect flower in order to waste it on the desert air of social oblivion. Flowers do not bloom unseen— in the twentieth century. Not while roses are nine dollars a dozen. In truth, marriage did not change her in the least. She was just as accessible as ever; she was just as uncompromised by attentions; she was just as far from being monopolized; neither did she wilt. Valerie Eloise—Smith—wilt? By no means! She blossomed still more delicately. What a complexion was hers! It was not like the lily. No, but have you ever looked inside the lily at noon of a bright day and seen how the deep-yellow of the stamen -is re- flected and gives the rarest glow of gold to the inside of the cup? Ah, that was the complexion of Valerie which defied time! So George Swain Van Siebert told her this day at Wandermere—that was John Smith’s place up the river. They were alone on the little porch off the breakfast- room, and they were about to follow the beagles over the hills. The costume hit off Valerie in rare style—the rough colorful Tweed of the short skirt, the loose blouse with the tie making a splash of color, and the tam-o’-shanter making more color above. “You're like the soul of the morning, Valerie,” he concluded, “ absolutely—like —the freshness—of the morning.”’ It wasn’t hunting for words that made him stumble in this manner; it was the ‘ oT te Digitized by Google ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. struggle to keep himself frém saying too much, and the effort made his lips tremble and his eyes bright. And she watched him with concern, her fingers fumbling in the pockets of -her dress as though she were about to draw something out. - ‘‘ There—the beagles are out,” she said. “We mustn’t keep them waiting.” He stopped her with a gesture. ““T’ve got to see you and have a chance to talk,” he said eamestly. She ‘said rapidly in alarm: “ Pull your- self together, George; you're letting your- self go.” “ Valerie, you cool-headed, enticing, de- lightful— ‘If you are heard—” she suggested. “Then promise me a chahce to talk— soon.” ‘‘ Tl manage it while we’re following the beagles.” He drew a long breath and then followed her out to the front of the house. There were the beagles, little, active dogs with sad eyes and sweeping ears. John Smith, his cheeks flushed by the crisp morning, held half a dozen of them in leash, and they strained futilely against his big, fleshy hands and raised the chiming chorus of the hunt. There wefe a dozen other guests come out for the week-end to follow the beagles and see Valerie. They stood about yawning—for the hour was early—until Valerie appeared, and then they started into life, with a smile here, a jest there, then laughter, and there was never a merrier hunt than that which scurried across the hills at Wandermere. George Swain Van Siebert watched Valerie with a careful eye, but she showed no intention of lagging behind. In fact, she was up there at the very heels of the hounds,..with the crowd clustering closely around her. So, she was putting him off again. He waited until the hunt entered a wood and there he sat down on a stump under pretence of tying a loose shoe-lace. Almost instantly the crowd was out of sight among the trees, but when he started up to go back to the house he found himself standing face to face with Valerie. Van Siebert blinked, as if the eye of an electric flashlight had suddenly glared at him. Original fro COMM. (C DOO < =) THE OHIO STATE UNTVERSITY