The Argosy — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

142 BY THE SAD SEA WAVES. HE waves are rolling in slowly ; the rows of cottages and the one hotel are bathed in an unbroken and a garish flood of light ; the beach is dotted with the usual specimens of “ the human form divine ” that one sees at the sea-shore ; while the inevitable small child trots around ubiquitously, overshadowed by a large amount of hat, and displaying an amazing brevity of skirt, and much (oh, very much !) of bare, mottled leg. Lastly, here am I, uncomfortably seated on a pile of wood, the centre of a swarm of gnats, trying to look as if I enjoyed it, and con- scious that I am failing miserably. It is not one of our populous places, resorted to by fashion ; but a little primitive beach, sought by those who require cheapness or privacy. “Tf,” I meditate, “I could only think of an appropriate poem, perhaps I might be able to get enthusiastic over that dreary sweep of water. There’s nothing else for me to do.” Poetry is not my strong point, and I rack my brain for at least three minutes. At last the lines come: ‘<The sea, the sea, the open sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ——” A woman’s voice, close at hand, says, “roast veal.” What else I hear not, for those two words carry my thoughts forward to dinner. But no—vain hope—dinner is still a thing of the future. At this point the aforesaid small child sets up a dismal howl, and flies in abject terror from “some dread monster of the deep” (length, one inch and a half ) that its grubbing has disinterred. Its fright gives me malicious pleasure ; but even that does not last long, and after a long yawn, I rise to go. But at this moment a figure in lilac gingham comes in sight, and I sit down to wait. She comes along with light, easy steps, and presently she drops down silently beside me. She is a girl of twenty-two, with wavy auburn hair, and a pair of deep-set grey eyes with dark brows and lashes ; her mouth is somewhat wide, and her nose short and retroussé¢; but the lilac gown shows off every curve of a superb figure, and her skin is prettily tinted. Somehow people always look twice at her. “Well?” I say, lazily interrogative. “Well?” she echoes. ‘ Look here, Deborah. If I get so bored in this place that I drown myself, just remember, please, that you brought me here.” “ W-hy, Ottalie——” I begin, with aggrieved sharpness. | comicbooks.com