The Argosy, August 1905 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

He amiled deprecatingly. “TI can’t, Hlinor— honestly. And / why should [Pe She failed to answer him. He ‘laughed again—a laugh that lacked as- » surance. “My dear,” he said gently, “you ‘do. ¢ know wnat they mean to me— \ these daily glimpses of you. Seeing you ‘i your own home is next to having you -—in mine. Since you won't come to ‘me, well—Mohammed must go to the smountain, that’s all!” She tapped with one hand on the arm ‘of her chair and her face was slightly » troubled. * Martin, you musin’t talk that way— rany longer.” He looked at her quickly. “Why not any longer, Ehnor?” But she felt the pressure of a con- strained silence. He rose and went ‘over to her chair, bending his tall figure vand accentuating the slight stoop of his- shoulders. “ Elinor,” he said, (out! ” His voice faltered, then he went on ‘more steadily. * We've been years beating about the ‘bush, you and I—we’ve almost knocked ‘all the blooms off; we’ve been like chil- ‘dren playing a game, and after all it isn’t wise, dear, to play games with ~jhearts. Ive tried my best to win out, but you haven’t exactly been square— -you haven’t let me know whether I had rany show. I’m a stupid old chap, but ‘I’ve loved you for a long time. Doesn't ithat count for something? ” His hand sought hers where it lay on ther lap, but she drew it suddenly away. “ No, no, Martin—not that!” Instinetively he straightened up, (folding his arms in pained silence. “With a feeling of compunction she 'touched his sleeve. * Martin—oh, Martin—can’t you just be my friend?” He shook his head sadly. _ “TV ye been trying to all my life,” he said; “since we were children together, - but, Elinor, it’s hardly fair—to me.” She bit her lips. “TJ know,” she said uncertainly, “ but q you. eney the truthyou knew I loved | safmuonce;, 60 tare pouicnt ever, .“let’s have “it again, in that way. I've tried ”—she raised her head—* I have, Martin; tried my best, but I can’t.” Her last word was barely whispered, but he flinched as if from a_ blow. “Is that final, Elinor?” Sheanodded. She could not trust her- self to speak. Me drew a long breath, then put out his hand. “Will you seal the bond,” he said slowly, “ of our—friendship ? ” She put her hand in his with the knowledge that tears were in her voice. * Martin, * she said; “ good old Mar- tin!” He sat down ‘again, crossing his hands on his knees and shaking off with visible effort the burden of his depres- sion. * Oh,” he said, “I’ve grown gray in the service, Elinor.” “And J’ve given you—starvation wages, Martin. It hasn’t paid, has it? ” She tried to speak lightly, but over the glow of her joy had crept a shade. She cared for Martin in a very real way. He nodded, smiling his broad, un- beautiful smile. “ Yes, it has—just this moment would pay, 1 there had been nothing else! To be sure of a good woman’s friendship— well, it’s next to the—other thing.” A sudden realization of all the gen- erous years of his self-imposed servitude came to her, and in the light of it she felt she could keep no secret hid. She leaned over, her ‘hand fingering the letter in her dress. * Martin,” she said slowly, coming home.” He started. “Lloyd Derevan? ” “Yes,” she said; “ Lloyd Derevan.” Something in the way she lingered over the name made him turn a shade paler. “ And Mrs. Derevan? ” he asked. There was a moment of silence. “Mrs. Derevan is dead.” A strange hush felk between them. She was only conscious of her letter, as he was only conscious of her. His eyes, searching her face, read enough to * Lloyd is make him steady the expression of his — own. < Will it eS difference te-you, Sed ae comicbooks.com