The Argosy, August 1905 — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

ab on of of Martin’s seriously kin © con onted her. She felt aetif the were smiting between the eyes! “ No,” she ak “Lloyd, I make one reservation—I owe it to—others who filled the years you left empty.” There was a silence between them. He sent blue rings of smoke upward, his lips curving deliberately. Her eyes were downeast, but she felt his presence in the room. With a sudden rush of tenderness she went over to him, leaning oh the arm of his chair. “Lloyd,” she said tremulously, “ it all seems—so strange. J—hardly seem to know you.” He half turned. “Well,” he said, “Wve changed; that’s all. The trouble is, you haven't, Elinor. A man goes through a mill— he comes out different. Over there the pace is rapid.” She felt a weighing sense of depres- sion. It was as if the yeast had been left out of the bread of her joy. She looked wide-eyed at the tantalizing vis- ion of an imperfect happiness. She put one hand on his hair. ‘ “Lloyd,” she said, “tell me about those years between.” . He laughed a trifle harshly. “It wouldn’t be pleasant hearing, Eli- nor. You see, Hthel comes into it— and a few others. I guess we had better let it go as a blank.” “But we cant,’ she breathed. “There are shapes crowding into it. I can’t tell you how, but I feel almost as if some of them were flesh and blood. They are separating you from me, Lloyd!” He stared into the shadow. “You are romantic,” he said, “and imaginative. ‘To such a woman as you things would sound even worse. No, no —we'll let sleeping dogs lie; we'll forget - it! 32 “Tit’s a man’s creed,” “never a woman’s.” He got up slowly. “ Well,” he said lightly, “I advise you to make it yours, at any rate. There —tkiss me, Hlinor! ” At the touch of his lips the old love for him came back. She threw ser seeaspess nase she murmured ; #e Loyd, Toya,” she sighed; “ it’s the beg ig and end of my dreams! ” Tle Toczenad her clasp. “Not the end, Flinor—leave that out—an ending is a synonym for death, and I’m afraid of death!” His words cast. a shadow over her. She shuddered. He walked across the room, nervously puffing at his cigar. *“ When Ethel died,” he said, “I felt as if she were only going on ahead to tell on me—to let them know that I had cheated her to the last.” She sat down weakly. “Cheated her, Lloyd?” she asked faintly. He nodded. “ T never loved her, exactly, but I pre- tended I did—you have to with some women. After she found out she made me keep it up—the pretense—to the end; but I knew she was scorning me all the time.” Elinor shivered. “Poor litile ees * she whispered, * Poor little thing! ” “For pity’s ae? deal in cheap sentiment. share toward it!” | She stood up, her face pale. “1?” she said. ** Lloyd, what do you mean?” “Just that,’ he answered shortly. “You were as guilty as 1—you were in love with me—and I was her husband.’ Something in Elinor’s throat seemed to be choking her. It was with an ef- fort she kept her burning eyes en his face. “For shame,” shame! ” She stopped suddenly, with a revul- sion of feeling. Could it matter now he cried, “ don’t You did your she cried; “ Lloyd, for what he said or what he thought? She turned away, her lips trembling. fe came swiftly to her side. ** Elinor, forget it—ali I said. Some- how it made me feel less in the wreng if it seemed that you were in ii, too!” He tried to put one arm about her waist, but she drew away slowly. She went over to the window, looking out half-blindly. The dark spaces of the sky were set with stars, but she did not see—she was only conscious that she had eaten of the Tees eh oes end & _ Fa ‘ > wi . = i te oxy” . o~ Si ae comicbooks.com