Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

LOVE OF SEVEN DOLLS 89 The Fox turned his head on his neck so that he looked hurt. “Tam not. I can t help my looks. Come on over here and see. Put your hand out.’ Mouche moved closer to the booth and extended her hand gingerly. The expression on the pale brow beneath her cheap little _ hat was half worried, yet she felt herself charmed. The Fox gently snuggled his chin onto Mouche’s palm and heaved a deep sigh. “There,” he said, “ you see how you’ve misjudged me?” He cocked an eye up at her. Mouche was not to be deceived. She remarked, “‘ I’m not sure I have at all.” “Heart like a kitten,’ the Fox insisted, snuggling his chin deeper into the cup of Mouche’s palm and then added, “ The trouble is, nobody trusts me. You would trust me, wouldn’t you? ” She was about to reply that she wouldn’t dream of doing so, when he moved his head and looked up at her once more. His mouth opened and closed silently. Surely it was the smoky light and the dancing shadows, but Mouche thought she saw such an expression of yearning, such a desire for trust on the sharp, clever face that she felt herself unaccountably touched and cried from her own heart, “‘ Oh yes. I would. She had all but forgotten whither she had been bound, or why. Nor did it strike her as at all strange that she should be standing there by the counter of a puppet booth, conversing with a scallywag of a fox. Where she came from, one talked not only with the little animals of the fields and the birds in the trees, but the trees themselves and the running brooks, and often one whispered one’s innermost secrets or heart’s desire to one of the grey dolmens that stood so mysteriously in a meadow. The Fox sighed again. ‘I knew I’d find someone innocent enough some day. What’s your name, baby? ”’ ““Marelle. But they call me la Petite Mouche.” * Little Fly,eh? Myname is Mr. Reynardo, J. L. Reynardo— Rey to my friends. Where are you from? ” “ Plouharg, near Saint Brieuc.”’ The Fox suddenly raised his head so that he was looking at her sidelong out of one wicked eye. He quoted from an old proverb, ““ Beware a sleeping dog, a praying drunk, or a Breton.” Mouche snatched her hand away and quoted back at him: ** When the fox preaches, guard your geese.”’ Mr. Reynardo let out a yapping bark of laughter and retired to the side of the booth. ‘“‘ Kid, you’ve got some guts in that skinny carcass of yours. Hasn’t she, friends?’ ‘This last was addressed to the workmen who had finished loading the lorry and were now standing by listening. “* She has your measure, old boy,” one of them replied, grinning. The fox yapped again and then called down below the counter, ‘“* Hey, Ali! Come up here a moment and see if you can scare this one.” comiclbooks.comn