Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

GUSTAVE’S PUNCTURED ROMANCE. ‘““No. She went to the theater.”’ Gustave stared at him. He tried to speak but his voice failed him. ‘Yes, Gladys went about two minutes ago, to the Empire,” continued the man, “with some fellow; a right smart young boy, too. Looked as though he had plenty of go in him.” Go! Without a word Gustave turned de- terminedly down the steps, toward the Empire. His collar swam; his violet spats were dusty from the road, his mustache dis- couraged—but not he. He would follow her to the ends of the earth—and kill this “smart young boy” if he refused to give her up! ~ A few late-comers were hastening into the Empire as Gustave reached its brilliantly lighted entrance—and then he paused, for a sight met his eyes that chilled his blood! Directly in front of him, just disappear- ing into the lobby, laughing, absorbed in each other, her big blue eyes gazing ten- derly up into his rival’s face, was Miss Green of the photograph—/is Miss Green; and Graves, his roommate—his friend /— with /is hat on his head—and his girl upon his perfidious arm! He clapped his hand agonizedly to his brow—how could she! And Graves! Women were fickle, unworthy, that was of course, an undisputed fact—but she, for whom he had cast aside another, for whose dear sake he had evaded Petunia—twice— left her, waiting, at the church— He gazed appealingly into the heavens, and then, caught in the glare of the Em- pire’s electric sign that announced the play, his eyes stared first dazedly, then compre- hendingly at the words: “PAID IN FULL!" He decided to go home. “Qh, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. You're late!” came a so- prano voice at his elbow. He looked up. It was Petunia! He smiled, wanly. He might as well. He glanced up into her adoring eyes, and sighed. Ah, what a falling off was there in spite of her choice of hats, from that Other! Side by side with round blue eyes and baby face, her petals drooped and died. _—— 317 ‘I came to tell you, I must go home. f have a sickness,”’ he murmured faintly. ** Where?” “In my diaphragm.” “* But we were going to the pictures!” ‘‘ Pictures!” He shook his head gloomily. ‘There are some who can appreciate, who contemplate me not unmoved,” he thought. Then he sighed egain, and looked darkly at a girl passing by, with yellow hair. Purchasing a rose from an Italian passing by, Petunia pinned it in his buttonhole. “Oh, do come, Mr. D’Esprit, it will do you good!” “You were waiting for me?” queried Gustave. ‘“T would wait forever, for you,’ replied Petunia, shyly, as she guided him gently across the street. ‘‘ They have such ex- citing pictures over here. The Triograph is simply wonderful! Oh, there’s Harold de Launcelot, the famous leading man--he’s in that one! See?”’ Ecstatically she pointed to a highly col- ored billboard at their right. 5 Gustave, following her gaze, read: HAROLD DE LAUNCELOT In “WE CAN’T HAVE EVERYTHING!” He stared at it, thunderstruck. It was true! He turned to Petunia. She smiled, wor- shipfully, down upon him, and pressed his arm. ‘True, she had not adorable features, the charm of— But it was equally true that she would stand without hitching. All is not gold that glitters. When one buys a package, it is the contents, not the wrapper, that one must consider. Also, he would fire that saleslady in the morning! He drew a deep breath. His shoulders straightened. He had made up their minds. : With the gesture of a Napoleon he drew irom his breast the photograph of Miss Green and tore it into bits; removed the fur cap from a placid brow, took Petunia’s purse out of her hand, and marched jauntily to the box office. A moment later he escorted his future wife into the lobby. COMMICOOOK (©