The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

GETTING AWAY FROM THOMPSON. “Oh, it isn’t that! It isn’t that!” Jane cried stormily. And then, since she had quite resolved to keep her distance from Mr. Farnham, utter misery overwhelmed her and she seemed to drift into his arms. They were about her now and she was clinging to him and tears were coming fast; face hidden on the shoulder of his shaggy coat, Jane indulged them for a little, while Farnham held her close and purred soft, soothing nothings. Thus they sat until, having quite con- vinced Mr. Farnham that—whatever its original and imaginary source—her unac- countable shrinking from him was gone for- ever, Jane drew back from him, steadily and resolutely, until she was free once more. She faced Mr. Farnham with a small, for- lorn and very tragic smile. “Will, dear,” said Jane, and all the sor- rows of the world were in her voice, “‘we —we mustn’t love each other. I can’t tell you why now, and maybe I can never tell you. Don’t ask me why—please don’t! I can’t tell!” “You poor silly little girl!” Farnham cried in exasperation, and tried to capture her again and failed. “I don’t know what it is, but I do know that it isn’t real. Come here and tell me about it.” “T can’t!” Jane murmured. “We’d better go down again.” “Not until I find out what is wrong.” Jane only laughed wearily, but there was a certain gloomy finality in the laugh. “Jane, dear,” said the large young man, ‘is this mysterious obstacle something that’s likely to last forever?” “T hope not,” Jane shuddered. —we must wait until it Is gone.” “T don’t know about that. You’ve never seen me remove obstacles, dear. If you will just tell me about this one, and let me show you a little sample of my work in that line—?” ‘“T can’t,” Jane said monotonously as she arose. Mr. Farnham was also on his feet and his large, strong hand caught her and turned her toward him. “Jane,” he said sternly, “not an hour ago I was taking some satisfaction in the melan- choly thought of that battlefield proposition. Now Ill admit frankly that if I happened to be engaged to the sweetest girl in the whole world, I should be more than likely to throw up the job without ever sailing, “But we 229 and start up here for myself, as I’ve been meaning to do this last year. But to a man who isn’t engaged, you know, and has no hope of becoming engaged, a few million bursting shells make such an appeal—”’ “Will! You don’t mean that?” Jane cried. “It is possible,” said Mr. Farnham, ‘‘that 1 do not. But 1 want most awfully to make you believe that I do, and then, perhaps—” She had turned away from-him with a quivering sigh; she was already on her way down the dark side of the rock. Mr. Farn- ham shook his head, and hurried to her side again. His arm sought to encircle her, and was gently thrust away, while Jane sighed again. Quite savagely Mr. Farnham gripped the slender hand that rested upon his sleeve for guidance as they passed downhill again: Whatever the exact and doubtless scan- dalous hour, the moon had been climbing busily since their ascent. Elusive bright patches were everywhere in the forest; at a distance they could see the long, dim stretch of road and nearer at hand the top of Jane’s beautiful six and a hint of the tent at the far side of the clearing. It was while staring gloomily at the car and wondering whether, after all, some family decree against relatively poor young men as possible husbands for Jane might not be at the bottom of his present trouble, that Mr. Farnham halted for a moment and squinted more narrowly at the automobile. He quickened their steps and, only a mat- ter of yards from the clearing, halted and said oddly: “We'd be in a hole if that man Cragg should leave us here!” “What do you mean?” Once more Mr. Farnham squinted. “Just wait where you are and don’t be frightened if you hear a little racket,” chuckled Mr. Farnham and started head- long from beside her. “I may be wrong, but I think—” He had vanished. Jarred suddenly from her own sad meditations, Jane tried to fol- low his remarkable flight. She was almost beside the clearing now and in the brilliant moonlight she saw Mr. Farnham dash straight across its piney width. Then, heading down the aisle toward the road, he disappeared again; and perhaps two seconds later a soft, heavy thud dis- turbed the soundless night and in Mr, Cragg’s voice a shrill: CORMICLOOOKS (C@