Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

render her tame to being treated in any off- hand, near-insiutting maaner by any of her roamers. | Mrs. Bruce did mot know that Julse was lying about the way in which she had spent Saturday evening. She did not doubt that the girl had really been victimized; but she did know that she was being spoken to in a fashion unfitting her position and the circumstances. She was not to be blamed if her sympathy was alienated. Julie, by reason of the bluff she was putting up, had overgaged her power and had taken upen herself too low am estimate of her landtady’s character. Deceit is a thief ef likeableness. It was some time before Mrs. Bruce spoke. Her steady gaze traveled up and dewn the girl seated on the bed. She noted the careless way Julie’s clothes were scat- tered about and—she sniffed. Whether she caught a whiff of tabacco-smoke or the spirituous vapors from the Mog still cling- ing to Julie’s apparel, she did not know; but she could smell a rat. There was some- thing about the gw] that was not qutite ‘straight. The landlasy sighed... She felt she had reason to be angry, yet not being able to define that reason beyond futie’s way of speaking to her, she let sorrow for the girl’s “You ain’t got no money at all?” she _ “T just told you. Not a cent. PH pay you next Sat’day.” ‘““No means of gettm’ no breakfast or nothing?” “TI don’t care. I’m going out—to a girl’s house this evening. I guess I'll be all right Monday © FH be able to get eneugh to go through this week. I ain’t lost my job.” Puazied by the peculiar standoffabness of Jalie’s behavior, Mrs. Bruce left the room. Down in the basement she pottered about 2 bit; picking things up and putting them down again in the same place. “ Kitty,” she said, stroking Julic’s waif, “that piri am’t actin’ right somehow. It ain't no good a talking though. She’s like the rest of the young ones. Stuck on herself. No breakfast! You've had 38 A 8 G06 yeurs, ang I’ve had mine, I guess we'll fix ber up something even if she is fresh.” When in response to a sharp knock, Julie opened her door, Mrs. Bruce was halfway down the stairs again. On the floer was a tray. Coffee, bread amd butter and two fried epgs. Folded under the salt-cellar was a two-dollar bill. As she stooped to pick up the tray, seme- thing limpid, owing its origm to quick shame and gratitude, came out of a big blue eye and ran dewn Julie’s nose. It os the coftee. AAD CHAPTER IX. ONE WHO STOOD STARING. N the jumble of surface-sewn and bed- rock rooted love, or what passes for love, is a factor.of varying and often unknown quantity. Sometimes it burrows and undermines, at others it aamareny shapes’ and builds. Julie, be it said, had never, as the say- ing goes, fallensin love. Artie did not know the meaning of the word im any approach to its most light form. An utterly selfish man cannot love. Love means self-sacrifice, which is distinct from self-injury. Leila had known love, still loved for that mat- ter; but the object of her love had so shamed her love that she had buried it deep. The wound in her heart had heen cauterized. .Her life had betn suth that cannot bear cataloging; but tre Jove never dies, so she lived and—suffered. The knowledge that she had preferred to ‘wallow in the pit rather than strive to re- habilitate herself did not make her posi tien any easier to bear. There was one other, although not yet mentioned more than es passant, who fig- ures in the orbit of Julie’s affairs, and who, until now, thought he loved. He it was who, when Julie looked back over her shoulder, had stood staring. In the8e words may be given an indica- tion of Ernest Kennedy’s attitude to the unusual: he stared. Where another man would have jumped forward, or turned on his heel, Kennedy was struck motionless. Given the same set of circumetances, differ- CGOMIIGoOO S CO