The Argosy — page 210: what you’re looking at

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

196 A Marriage from the Stage. “© Thanks, very much,” said Mrs. Brunswold, who didn’t under- stand a word of any language but the Southern dialect of England. “*Une Nuit d’Eté’ is a favourite song of mine,” was the reply, as Mrs. Raughan rose with her visitor. ‘“‘ And very charming it is! Now you really mustn’t come down the drive without your hat, Mr. Raughan,” the lively widow said in her loud voice as she sailed into the hall. ‘‘ You'll catch a dreadful cold in that top story of yours, and your wife will have her revenge on me.” The moment Claudia lost sight of the retreating figures she returned hastily into the drawing-room, walked out upon the terrace and round by the back of the drive, where she could see them coming without being observed. They were walking along together, laughing and talking. Arthur was flicking the air with his whip, his eyes fixed on Mrs. Brunswold’s face with that characteristic look he always wore when interested and pleased ; a look half inquiring, half smiling. Almost without knowing why, Claudia bent forward to hear what they were saying. “Wouldn’t it be rather a pity to leave the Park just now?” Arthur asked his companion, just as they were within a few yards of his listening wife. The widow laughed and said something Claudia could not catch, and then her husband laughed his light merry laugh as they passed her. There was a cold wind blowing, although the spring was far advanced. Now that the two had disappeared, Claudia became conscious that she was without a wrap, and she also began to ask herself why she had stolen out upon them, what she had expected to hear or see, and she felt angry with herself for having even for a moment assumed any possibility of rivalship with *#af woman, In spite of this argument, it displeased her to see Arthur so evidently interested in all Mrs. Brunswold’s manceuvres and so easily amused by her commonplace, loudly-delivered jokes. But before she had formed these thoughts clearly in her mind she was aware of the approach of someone. It must be Arthur coming back some other way ; how foolish she would look out in the chilly wind without hat or cloak and for no purpose whatever. But it was not Arthur; it was the confidential valet who was close upon her, holding a shawl in his hand. Claudia turned, and their eyes met for a moment. ‘“ Pardon, Signora, but the afternoon is cold and you are exposed.” “Thank you,” replied Claudia, taking the shawl from him before he had time to put it round her shoulders, and walking back to the house with a haughty, repellant air. She was vexed that the watchful man should have come upon her then; doubtless he was aware of what brought her there. She would have been still more angry had she seen the valet, a few moments before, hastily picking up from comicbooks.com