Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

GUSTAVE’S PUNCTURED ROMANCE. ‘““And she said she would?” grinned Graves. Gustave nodded with dignity. “ After I pay her the nine dollars in advance for the two dozen photograph.” Graves laughed, for no apparent reason. “ But what about Petunia?” he asked quiz- zically. Gustave laughed heartily. “ As you say to me many time,” he said airily, “ 1 should think hard upon the matter!” In great good humor he reached for his hat, then paused. Why not share his tri- umph? He took out the photograph and held it before Graves’s eyes. “ There!” he beamed with rapture. “ Iss she not per-fection?”’ Graves stared at it; his jaw dropped. A queer look came over his face. ‘““Ah, you envy me!” smiled Gustave proudly. ‘‘ But I do not blame you. I must hurry. She will be waiting. Per- haps—-who knows?” he said smugly, “ she will fall in love, eh?” He turned a slow semicircle. “ My toilet for the evening, iss it—O. QP?” A curious gleam appeared in Graves’s brown eyes. “You look great, Gus, old boy!” he said erthusiastically— ‘‘ but my God—there’s powder all down the back of your coat!” Gustave turned with a word and ran to the closet for the whiskbroom. “Say, can I wear one of your hats?” asked Graves. “ Certainly!” returned Gustave, brushing vigorously. “ Take you peeck.” Graves opened the closet door and se- lected from seven others on the top shelf, a straw hat with a black band. ‘Well, so long,” he continued, opening the hall door. ‘See you later, Gus. Say, your clock’s fifteen minutes fast!”’ * Au revoir,” murmured Gustave, gazing with a handglass fixedly in the mirror, as the door closed. His brow cleared. Fleck- ing an infinitesimal speck of dust from his right shoulder, he stood back to view the ensemble. Removing the pearl stickpin from his mauve scarf, he placed it a fraction of an inch further to the left; then smiled. He was perfection. Humming “Un Peu d’Amour,” he took old up his Panama, plucked his cane leisurely from its corner, shook his cuffs, and strode with careless elegance down the stairs and out into the street in the direction of her home—his soul romping, as it were, in Elysian fields. There was plenty of time since his clock was fast. How soft and mellow was the evening . air—how soothing the gentle fragrance cf spring! He jumped hastily out of the way of a passing automobile. And. the sky— of a glorious cerulean, like her eyes. The pink in her exquisite cheeks resembled the rose flush of the clouds at dawn; her teeth were— Sacré—! In front of him stood Petunia! He paused in horror. She was in a yard talking to a woman @h a white wrapper who sat on the porch of the adjacent hceuse. She wore a pink gown and the safiron-col- ored hat purchased from him the day be- fore; dressed for the evening! Luckily her back was turned, but he could hear her laughter. He shuddered, glancing hastily up at the signpost. Good heavens! he had inadvertently taken her very street! He vanished quickly back around the cor- ner from whence he had come, crossed the street, and continued his journey by way of the-block above. He mopped his brow. As Graves would say, it was a close shaving. He walked on blithely. The birds sang sweetly in the maple at his right. How beautiful was nature! The moon, rising behind an electric sign that proclaimed the perfect toothbrush, shone brightly, casting its rays on rich and poor alike. Happiness is indeed a leveler. He beamed upon a ragged urchin on the curb, then smiled benignly on a little girl tripping along in a silken frock. The true wealth was, after all, a contented heart. Great heavens! —it couldn’t be—but yes, it was! His jaw dropped. There, again, was Petunia! He stared wrathfully, his mouth open. There she was. This time she was coming out of a drug-store, directly in his path. She had a bag in her hand—peppermints! What on earth ailed the woman! he thought irritably. Why didn’t she stay at home, where she belonged! instead of wandering around like—Sacré/ She turned hastily to- ward him. She was coming his way! comichook (E(0)