Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

ALWAYS A GENTLEMAN. Thirty-five cents for the plate, a nickel for coffee, ten cents for a tip—Chester com- puted rapidly. Resolutely he walked on. Fifteen minutes later he reached a white one-story cottage set in a scraggly yard. Maybelle Jones, magnetic with the fresh beauty of eighteen, answered his peal at the doorbell. “Oh, hello,” she said listlessly. you, 1S it?” Chester smiled. didn’t expect me.” The girl hesitated a moment before she swung open the screen door. ‘‘ Come in.” Following her into the golden oak par- lor, Chester Gibbs saw nothing of its crass- ness in taste or furnishings; nothing except the smooth, budding charm of Maybelle— _ the gold glint in her hair, the trim lines of her figure. She sat upon a straight-backed settee, crossed her slender silken ankles, and adjusted her softly piled hair. ‘“How’d you like to take in a movie?” the boy asked. ‘“‘ They got a peach of a picture down at the Bijou.” ‘“Sorry—I got another date to-night, Chester.” “You got another—say—what!”’ “Yes, and I’m afraid I'll have to ask you not to call here any more. Mother, she asked me to tell you.” His brain reeled with the shock of it. Calmly, coldly, she—Maybelle!—had just said— <A thousand memories of moonlight, of plans and dreams and pledges, eddied in a confusion of anguish. ‘“You—you don’t care any more?” The shadow of a smile revealed May- belle’s little, milk-white teeth. ‘“‘Let’s not argue, Chester. almost eight o’clock.”’ ‘ Who’s coming?” he heard himself ask- ing. ‘‘Well—I suppose you’d find out any- how. It’s Harold Pudney.” “It’s “You act like you Besides, it’s Beyond any possible control, some fu-- rious, primitive anger flared through every nerve in the body of Chester Gibbs, elec- trifying him with jealousy. One fist clenched until the knuckles were white lumps of bone. “That fellow—with his putty face and 341 short upper lip!” His voice sank to whip- hike intensity. ‘So that’s who it is, eh? Harold Pudney, eh?” Maybelle regarded him with the level eyes of a woman whose mind is set. “The Pudneys are one of the finest families in town,” she said metallicly. ‘“Harold’s in the bank now, and what’s more he’ll be its president some day.” “Yes, he will!” Her exquisite lip curled. ‘‘ Furthermore, he’s a gentleman—if you know what I mean.”’ ‘A gentleman! Ha! Say, if I told you —but what’s the use? It don’t matter.” The little teeth clicked as though May- belle Jones were determined to make a thor- ough job of it. Somehow, the thought that she was experiencing malicious pleasure came to Chester, and he bit his lip until the blood started. ‘“* Harold Pudney,” she was saying, ‘“* does not need me to defend him against your insinuations. He’s got something to hin— real character.”’ ‘““T suppose your mother put that idea into your head?” ‘“ Suppose she did? got it.” Again the color was gone from Chester’s face. As livid as he had been before Chief Andrews, he got unsteadily to his feet. ‘‘ Alk right, Maybelle. There’s nothing more for me to say. My life is ruined.” ‘“T guess not,” Maybelle retorted, unim- pressed. “I understand you’re in lots of demand as a pool player.”’ With an upraised hand he stayed her. ‘My love for you—that’s killed. Time alone can heal the scar. But if you ever need me—if I can ever help you in any way—just call on me.” Impersonally, without warmth, the girl spoke: ‘‘ Your fine talk don’t mean a thing on earth to-me any more, Chester. I’ve listened to you too long already. Words— words.”’ ‘“My word ’’—his voice fairly rasped— ‘is as good as my bond. Remember that. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Good-by.” A revulsion toward the town, its lights and people, fell upon Chester as he turned I’m the one that’s COmiCbooks.Conm