The Argosy, September 1915 — page 211: what you’re looking at

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

MISS O’FLANNAGHAN’S ROMANCE. “You—you greeny! You take my girl Maria? I see about that!”’ There was a frightened shriek as Eid Maroney plumped into the gutter under the impact of Gizzio’s strong right fist. Then Maria cast herself upon the neck of her fiancé, well pleased to be rid of her new conquest. It was at this same fetching hour of twelve that Miss O’Flannaghan was taking her unescorted way up Twenty- Third Street. She had never before been out so late, and she kept close to the stoops of the tenements, racking her arms as she plodded along in an agony of fear at the shadows which stretched their dripping lengths beside her. She was forever humiliated in her own eyes. For an endless stretch of factory years she saw herself panting across the yard lest she be seen by a man with a coal-shovel in the door of the boiler-room. Her supreme effort had been a failure. “Eid’s feckle-minded—feckle-mind- ed,’ she reiterated dully until the words seemed to beat themselves against her brain in time to the splash of the rain-drops on the curbing, and she did not hear the quick steps behind her that came nearer—nearer—and then stopped with a sudden clutch of her arm. “Howdy, Miss O’Flannaghan?” said an apologetic voice. Miss O’Flannaghan turned. “W-hy, Edward, I thought you had went home! And where's your coat? And your pants is all mud!” ““A fresh cop guy took me coat,” said Edward, which was quite true; a policeman had restrained Gizzio just as he had got well started and had at- tempted to “run in” Ed also; but Ed had eluded him, leaving his good checkered coat in the hands of justice. ‘“[ missed you in Jerry’s, Miss O’Flannaghan,”’ went on Ed. Heaven forgive him for his lies— he lied that night with such good in- tent! 425 “T was slitherin’ along Twenty- Third Street, tryin’ to catch up with you, and I run into a cop and he took me coat. It was a better coat nor his. You know what cops is, Miss O’Flan- naghan.” “Yes,’’ murmured Miss O’Flanna- ghan sympathetically, although she had no intimate acquaintance with the police. She could acquiesce to any- thing with that strong arm holding hers. There seemed to be nothing more to say for a block or two. Then they passed a ten-cent restaurant, from which there issued a cheerful odor of beef and onions. “Miss O’Flannaghan,”’ asked Ed in a hushed undertone, “ kin you make a stew?” “T used to make a grand stew in the old country,” said Miss O’Flannaghan bravely. There was a second pause. ‘Then Eid spoke again, his voice husky with emotion : “Did you ever think of livin’ in a small flat, Miss O’Flannaghan — say, about an eight-dollar one? I been boardin’ round off and on for five years now. One do get fearful tired boardin’!” Miss O’Flannaghan could hardly trust her voice to answer. ‘“ Anybody could do for a flat, Ed.” Then, growing bolder: “T don’t think anybody would fooster so if they could stay to home and keep house for a while — like I fooster in the factory.” They had turned down to First Avenue now, and had stopped in front of No. 2883. Ed did not let go of her arm. “Miss O’Flannaghan,” he stam- mered thickly, “you ain’t got no steady, have you?” Miss O’Flannaghan,was too choky to answer, but Ed went on recklessly : “Ain’t there no place that you would like to go next Sunday that I could take you?”’ | Miss ©O’Flannaghan fumbled for COPMICLOOOKS (E@)