The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

582 —if Orton really meant it as such. Just for one chill second she reflected that she was a long way from the nearest of those twink- ling lights, with a man whom she had thought she knew well enough to believe incapable of offering to give her a motor- car. But a stir of breeze moved a little branch up in the top of one of the trees, and let enough moonlight sift down into his face to show her that he was far worse scared than he could scare her. He was taking this method of proposing all right. And she hesitated. None of the others had interested her half so much as this man, in his own. line about a hundred times as efficient as any other man she knew. He differed from the rest in many respects, but chiefly in that, while she had tried unsuc- cessfully to make herself believe she was in love with one or two of the others, she had never been quite sure she had convinced herself she was not in love with him. The thought of conveying a gentle lesson in manners struck her as a life-saving idea to rescue her from the need of immediate answer. “Why—why,” she stammered, ‘“‘of course it’s awfully kind of you to make such an offer; but really, you know, a girl can’t re- ceive a present like that from a man— that is—”’ She stopped in confusion. Her attempt to correct him was likely to seem a mere bid for a more out-and-out request for her hand. “T know,” he took her up—‘unless they’re engaged, at least. I suppose I oughtn’t to offer it to you, not yet. I—er— “Well, you know, I haven’t been in a position before where I could say anything,” he hurried on. “But, the way these Roller- ton cars are selling, I’ll begin to own real money by the end of a year. And I wanted you to know about it. “Mind, I’m not asking you to promise to marry me yet. When I do I'll have the money in hand, not in the bush. It will take me a year—maybe two. And then I’m going to—”’ “Please stop,” she protested. “T beg pardon,” he gasped, trying to un- derstand her interruption. “Don’t talk as if I were a—an automo- bile you wanted to buy—or rather make a deposit on it to hold it until you could raise the price. I’m not for sale, really.” For a moment he was nonplused. But THE ARGOSY. only fora moment. Though he was a little more rattled than ever before in his life, the situation was still to arise which would leave him hopelessly without some answer. ‘What shall I say?” he finally faltered. Then, “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, with a. sudden new thought, “‘you don’t want me to tell you I love you, do you?” That was the question with her. Did she? Not having any certain answer in her own mind, she gave him none, and he went on before she could construct a good evasion. “You don’t suppose I’d ask you to marry me if I didn’t love you,” he said. “You didn’t ask me to marry you,” she reminded him, feeling that she must say something, and that his peculiar methods of questioning were so irregular that she was more apt to say the wrong thing than the right one. She had said the wrong one now. “Well, I want you to marry me,” he hastily corrected his omission. Then his usual gift of speech shoved him over the moment’s difficulty and gave her another jolt. ‘You didn’t suppose I wanted to give you an automobile to get you to be my sister, did you?” ‘“‘N-no.”’ She stammered out the only word she could possibly think of. “Well, then, how about it?” he de- manded. She suddenly decided it was time to quit, while she knew something about where the conversation might end. “Oh, you ridiculous boy,” she cried, with a forced little Jaugh in her voice. ‘‘Here it’s after nine, and we’re twenty miles from home, and if I’m not back by ten, the whole house will be up in arms. Please don’t be foolish any more, but take me home.” Ridiculous boy was dangerously close to an accurate description of Hardy Orton. Fun and the weightiest business of life had never kept far apart in Orton’s scheme. When he was not fixing or driving auto- mobiles for business, he was fixing or driv- ing them faster for pleasure. And she was making fun of him. So long as his own seriousness had kept him from seeing her in any but a terribly serious light, she was as safe as a bronze goddess on a pedestal. He would worship her from afar with desperately reverent gravity. But— She was laughing at him, dodging the issue, playing with him. He looked into her GOmMIGhboo S (E@)