The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

FOUR SPEEDS FOR FOREST HILL. face as she turned it toward him. He per- ceived that it was a perfectly human face, very lovely, very warm, a little saucy, ter- rifically tempting, hardly ten inches from his own. Had she accepted him seriously, he would have kissed her forehead with the solemnity of performing a rite. But she teased him, and— She suddenly found her neck surrounded by an arm not entirely free from the odor of gasoline, and her face fairly smothered against his as he held her thus and chuckled a$ he kissed her again and again. | Back up in the part of the country where Hardy Orton had been born they still play games with kisses as forfeits. Kisses may be the beyond-words expression of love, or they may be sheer fun. Just now they were, on Orton’s part, a little of both. She struggled to free herself, to get breath for a shriek of rage and terror. She got the breath, but— The blatant bellow of a motor’s horn ° startled her into thought again. She had no mind for being the heroine of a news- paper story that might come out of being rescued from her predicament. Neither did she wish to be passed by possible friends or acquaintances in just her present situation. “Stop quick,” she whispered, imperious- ly; “some one’s coming.” He drew back a little. me?” he now demanded. ‘Never!’ she hissed, with a lot more fury than she felt. She had herself to blame for making a game of things. He caught her again. “Will you marry me?” he repeated, along with some more kisses. “No!” she answered, fiercely. The approaching motor’s cut-out sounded frightfully near as the car came up the hill behind them. “Will you marry me?” he spoke a third time. A ray of light from the oncoming car’s head-lamps flared into the foliage just above their heads. “Y-yes,” she whispered in frantic hurry. He took a fraction of a second to snatch one more kiss. At the same time he used his free hand and his feet on pedals, levers, throttle, spark. , The little six responded nobly. As the car behind topped the grade and thus brought its shafts of light down, they fell “Will yeu marry 583 upon the back of another car rapidly dis- appearing into the dimness ahead. Hardy took the turn into the first cross-road with a skid that snatched the breath from Arlene. Then he stopped, while the pur- suing car kept on its course. ‘‘Well, they missed one touching scene,” he remarked, blithely. “Touching scene!” she echoed, hotly. “Wasn’t it, though?” he cried, gaily. ‘“ Hardy Orton,” the girl spoke fiercely, “do you want me to tell you what I think of you?” He grinned. “I’d rather take it out in more kisses,” he replied, insolently, meeting her flashing eyes with a dancing pair of his own. She tried to maintain her look of fiery indignation. Had she known how hard it was for him to maintain his grin, she might have done it. Her eyes dropped. “Please, Hardy, take me home,” she begged. He would gladly then have knelt before her, only the other way seemed to have worked so much better. ‘‘All right—but one more kiss, first,”’ he said. From his look it would have been hard to determine whether refusal would cause him to take several or none at all. She tried to avoid chances. “Just one,” she assented. “Lordy!” he whispered breathlessly, as he lost count, “I didn’t know I did love you so well!” “T didn’t either,” she answered, vaguely. The vagueness was made more vague by the fact that she did not again mention home- ward return for another full minute. Half an hour later they drew up before her front door. He had not been demon- strating speed. An automobile was almost as much part of him as his feet or his hands, and the ridiculous boy in him wanted to run and jump and howl for sheer joy. Unconsciously they had gone the whole distance with exhaust cut out and roaring. If he had had his big eight-cylinder “junk- car” they would have landed in prison or a gutter. But he missed the pleasure he had counted on getting out of lifting her from — the car. The heavy-set figure of her father was limned in the moonlight, standing on the steps of the house as they drew up. Before the shut-off motor had stopped its sucking whir, his voice boomed out in a EOMICLOOOKS (E@)