The Argosy, August 1914 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

NOBODY LOVES A LOSER. “T told you, Jack,” she answered in a small voice... “He says he won't marry me anyway until after the fight, and—and—’”’ Studying her more sharply, the truth broke on him. “Good God!” he exclaimed. ‘ And why won’t he marry you?” “ He’s been off and on with me ever since the night he whipped you, Jack,” she said. “‘‘ Now ‘twas one thing, and now the other. And—lI love him.” “Well, he loves you, too, doesn’t her=> “T’m sure he does. Oh, yes, he loves me. But Butch got the swelled head from knocking you out, and afterward worse when Sam Levine took him on.’ Jack understood. The malady named is epidemic in ring circles. Bit by bit she told him the rest of her story. Vesta was in love with Horlock as deeply as her nature permitted. The proofs of affection she had given am- ply attested that. She remained con- vinced, also, that Butch MHorlock loved her. His defeat of Jack Garrett, how- ever, had led him to flights of ambi- tion hitherto unentertained. The date for the wedding had been set, and put off on the ground that the fighter could not break into his training. ‘The same excuse had been made when Horlock was preparing for the fight between Jack Garrett and himself. Besides, there was then— ‘Yes, yes, go on,” Jack urged. “ He wanted to make sure of that fight, didn’t he?” “Tt was a dirty business, Jack,” the girl admitted. ‘I wouldn’t have had a hand in it only Butch threatened—’” “T understand. So you slipped a little dope into me?” The girl’s lips compressed into si- lence. “Well, if the Butcher is willing to marry you after the championship fight, won’t that be good enough?” Jack asked. 55 “But I know him so well,” said Vesta. “If he wins, his head will be swelled worse than ever. If he loses, he will marry me.” “Why if he loses, in Heaven’s name?” ‘Because men are that way,” the worldly-wise girl replied. ‘“‘li they lose they want somebody to sympa- thize. They're grateful then. But if they're successful they think it’s all their own doing, and they’re too im- portant to remember old friends.” The young man was unable to avoid a part at least of the conclusion. His last meeting with Vesta Dawn had been born of a loser’s desire for sym- pathy. He shifted the line of conver- sation. ‘Where is the training headquar- ters, Vesta?’ he inquired. She mentioned a farmhouse near the shore whose location Jack iatew in a general way. “If there was anything I could do—” he began. “There isn’t, Jack. There’s noth- ing any one can do. Butch won't mar- ry me until after the fight anyway— he says so. And Sam Leyvine’s hold- ing him to training with a clause that he can put somebody else against Monk Reilly at the last minute if he wants to. He told Butch he wouldn’t have the same trick played on him twice.” The young man shrank a little from the cut. The temptation to parry was irresistible. “ Suppose somebody plays the trick on Butch he played on me?” said he. “It was dope, wasn’t it, Vesta? And you know Sam Levine’s a square man. What if I took the story to him.” “Oh!” The girl’s face revealed that she saw the logic of the sugges- tion. “But Sam’s a business man,” she added. “ He wouldn’t throw up a chance to make money just for that, I’m sure.” | “You don’t know Sam as I do,” was his reply. “ He likes money, but he wouldn’t accept it by associating with a crook.” CORnMICLOOOKS (C@