Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

a 208 brain bubbled, with a senseless fury that was partly tension relaxing at their es- cape. This was, indeed, his last adventure in giving aid; this clinched it, that a woman in Margery’s present position could pause to ask assurance of that kind! With her once off his hands, the whole world might go straight to—whatever place is devoted to _ the ultimate absorption of plain, thankless fools. George was quite through. It occurred to him bitterly that perhaps he ought to pause and thank the young woman for hav- ing failed to drop senseless in there or to play some other idiotic trick of which she was doubtless capable. She had not; she was still able to walk, and she was plod- ding on through the mud at his side; there was cause for gratitude in that and, silently, George was about to give thanks, and— “George!” gasped Margery. “What?” George asked briefly. “My handbag!” “You’ve got it, haven’t you?” “No, it’s in on the table! She threw it there after she took out the cards, and I never gave it a single thought until this very second!” “Well, it’ll have to stay where it is, then. Losing a couple of trinkets is a mighty low price for this getaway, Margery.” “ But it isn’t losing them!” Mrs. Poole cried, and stopped short. ‘‘ Arthur’s com- ing, and he’ll go in there and seé it—and tHe minute that happens he’ll know that I’ve been there!” - “ Fe’ll know nothing of the sort!’’ George corrected. ‘‘ No man can tell one hand- bag from another.” “Arthur can, because he always liked that bag; he gave it to me. And when— when he was himself, he used to—to tickle my chin with the little tassels!”” Margery said, and caught a sudden, hard little sob. ‘Will you go back and get it for me?” “J will not!” said George. “I don’t believe for an instant that Arthur ’ll ever recognize—” “Then you wait here, and I’ll go,” said Mrs. Poole. She turned away quickly. George caught her, 7 THE ARGOSY. “Tf it has to be done, Ill do it,” he said, through gritting teeth. ‘‘ Stand just as you are, please, so that I can find you when I return!” She had succeeded, after all, in ruining everything! This George felt in his very bones as he sloshed back, over the dozen yards to the steps of the veranda. He would walk in now and come face to face with Miss Woodbury; and she, doubtless, would have some new and_even more con- vincing way of keeping him there, while Margery waited in the rain. After that? George did not know, nor was he greatly in- terested. Murmuring divers incoherent and uncomplimentary things, he opened the door and entered Aunt Amanda’s home. The painted lady was not immediately _visible. Indeed, as he paused and listened, her song came again from the kitchen, and George stepped quickly to the table and snatched up the wretched bag—and then, because steps were crossing the kitchen, sat down instinctively in the chair he had occu- pied before! There was the most remote chance that Miss Woodbury—well, there she was, anyway, the kitchen door half opened, a long spoon in her hand, gazing at George with a rather complacent. smile. “IT didn’t hear you talking,” she ex- plained, ‘We haven’t much to say to each other!’ George managed. : “TI thought, you know, that you might have fled. That would be so silly!” And still she loitered, half in and half out of the kitchen, and with no apparent in- tention of advancing farther just now. ‘‘ Silly sounds mild,” George submitted, with some difficulty. “Where is the little lady friend, by the way?’’ Miss Woodbury queried, and looked about curiously. ‘Sitting there on the couch,” said George, since that was the one bit of living- . room furniture not visible from the kitchen doorway. And he smiled at the couch and nodded, very artistically, indeed. ‘“ Oh, cheer up, Margery!” he said, with a reck-_ less laugh. thing!” “Tt will not,” agreed the painted per- son dryly. ‘‘ Not around here this eve- “ Crying ’ll never get us any- EOPMICLOOOKS G (E@)