The Argosy — page 265: what you’re looking at

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

Edina. 249 in his pocket from home. That was eaten long and long before the time had expired when he would be expected to go in; but he did not like to appear earlier, lest some discerning clerk should decide he had not been to dinner at all, It was frightfully dull and dreary here, the bitterly cold wind whistling against him down the passages and round the comers ; so he got into the open streets : they, at least, were lively with busy traversers. “T must go and see Peter Tanting, to tell him of my success and thank him; for it is to him I owe it,” thought Charles, as he quitted the office in the evening. “Let me see! The address was somewhere near Mecklenburgh Square.” Taking out a small note-case, in which the address was noted down, he halted at a street corner while he turned its leaves, and found him- self in contact with William Stane. The gas in the streets and shops made it as light as mid-day: no chance had they to pretend not to see each other. A bow, exchanged coldly, and each passed on his way. ‘“*T'll not notice him at all, should we meet again,” said Charles to himself. And it might have been that Mr. Stane was saying the same thing. ‘Now for Doughty Street. I wonder which is the way to it?” deliberated he. “Does Mr. Tanting live here?” inquired Charles of the young maid-servant, when he had found the right house. ‘In the parlour there,” replied the girl, pointing to a room on her left. Without further ceremony, she went away, leaving him to introduce himself. A voice, that he supposed was Peter’s, bade him “come in,” in answer to his knock. But he could not see Peter. A young fellow was stretched on the sofa in front of the fire. Charles rightly judged him to be the brother, Frederick Tanting. Young men are not, as a rule, very observant of one another, but Charles was struck with the appearance of the one before him. He was*extremely good-looking; with fair hair, all in disorder, that shone like threads of gold in the firelight, glistening blue eyes, and a bright hectic flush on his thin cheeks. “I beg your pardon,” said Charley, as the invalid (for such he evidently was) half rose, and gazed at him. ‘I came to see Peter.” “‘Oh, aye ; sit down,” was the answer, given in a cordial tone, but without much breath. “I expect him in every minute.” “You are Fred,” observed Charles. ‘I daresay he told you of meeting me on Tuesday: Charles Raynor.” “Yes, he did. Dosit down. You don’t mind my lying here?” “Ts it a cold you have taken?” asked Charles, bringing forward a chair to the corner of the hearth. “T suppose so. A fresh cold. You might have heard my, breathing yesterday over the way. The doctor kept me in bed. He wanted to comicbooks.com /