Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

Q2 PAUL GALLICO Even this brief space of time had seen a transformation worked in Mouche. The listlessness and despair had been shed. If any- thing, her gauntness, the hunger-thin frame, and the large, tender, believing eyes, shining from the pale countenance, added to the attraction as, in company with the sly-looking, amorous Fox and the pompous, stuffy, over-dignified Penguin, she acted out the verses of the song, playing first to one and then the other as though she had really changed lovers. They ended with a shout and a thump of Golo’s guitar, and his hearty chuckle was heard above the applause and bravos of the audience. Mouche did not even notice Golo reach behind the booth for a battered tin poilu’s helmet with which he passed swiftly through the crowd, or the response to his collection in bills and coins, for she was too absorbed with Mr. Reynardo and Dr. Duclos who were taking elaborate bows. “You were in excellent voice tonight, my dear Reynardo.”’ ‘“* Permit me to compliment you likewise, friend Duclos.” To Mouche, Reynardo remarked, ‘“‘ You know, I could make something out of you, baby.”” And Dr. Duclos added importantly, “Your solfeggio is not at all bad, my child. I say, of course, that everything is diaphragm control .. .” From somewhere in the depths of the booth a bell rang. Mr. Reynardo let out a yelp. ‘‘ Oops! Supper! Sorry—Nice to have met you, kid. Come on, Doc.” The Fox and the Penguin disappeared beneath the stage. Golo regarded Mouche for a moment with the sad, creamy eyes of an old negro who has seen much. He said, ‘“‘ Who are you, Miss? ” Mouche replied, ‘‘ Nobody.” “You brought us good luck.” “Did I? I’m glad.” ‘Where you go now? ”’ “T don’t know.”’ His question had restored the chill to the night and the feel of — the hard-packed earth beneath her feet. The fairy tale was over, then. Yet the echoes still lingered and her heart felt strangely neat olo nodded. ‘To have no place to go was familiar to him. He said, ‘‘ You excuse me, Miss. I better get things ready to move.”’ He went to the car and unstrapped the big theatrical trunk from the rear. Someone at Mouche’s elbow went, *‘ Pssst! ’’ Another half-doll occupied the stage, an elderly woman with a pronounced moustache and indignant eyebrows. She was wearing an overall and mob-cap and carried a duster with which she took an occasional wipe at the counter. When Mouche turned to her, she first peered furtively to both sides and then addressed her in a hoarse whisper: ‘‘ Don’t trust them.” Instantly Mouche was swept back to this other world. ‘‘ Don’t trust whom? ”’ she asked. comiclooks.comn