The Argosy — page 326: what you’re looking at

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

308 ARCHIBALD LESTER’S ADVERTISEMENT By ANNE BRALE, AUTHOR OF ‘*‘ A WEEK’s ROMANCE,” RCHIBALD Lester sat before his mother’s davenport, with an elaborate display of writing materials beneath his eyes, and a per- plexed expression within them. These eyes were small, twinkling, shy, shrewd, greyish balls, set ina fair, unwhiskered face: and the nose and mouth below them were almost as shrewd as they. The perplexity appeared to extend to his neck, for he held it uncomfortably on the side, and looked very much like a bullfinch preparing tosing. Indeed, _ during his school-days, which, happily, were not numerous, he had re- ceived the appellation of Bully—not from his hectoring propensities, but from this one-sided proclivity. As he sat, his pen between his finger and thumb, and his eyes, upturned, as if in contemplation of a fly on the green and gold paper, he might almost have been pronounced as lost “in maiden meditation fancy free,” for his face was smooth as a girl’s, and he had never been in love. ‘Yet he was fast verging on forty. The fact was that hitherto his affections had been centred in his mother. She had been so devoted to him that he had found no other woman indispensable to him. But he had lost her, and began to wonder what sort of thing a wife would be. It was this consideration which caused his perplexity. In spite of nickname and neck, Archibald was not a bad fellow. He had plodded diligently through clerkhood to merchanthood ; was liked by his male friends, and had been a dutiful son. It was not his fault, and possibly not his misfortune, that he had never been in love. At last he dashed into a sheet of note-paper, and having written a few lines, in a round, clear hand, tore it up. He began again, tore up another and another, till some half-dozen were confided to the waste paper basket. He finally condensed his ideas into three lines, which he read and re-read meditatively, then muttered : ‘© Tf I like her, I can marry her.” What he had written was as follows. ‘‘ Wanted. A sensible lady housekeeper about thirty, by a gentleman not far from that age. Money no object. Address A. L. Post Office, Cornhill, E.C.” He went from his fine house in Bedford Square to the Ztmes office, and left his advertisement ; thence to the Post Office indicated and requested all answers to be sent to his offices in the City. He knew these would be numerous, but had not imagined they would come in shoals. He filled a portmanteau with them, and took them to Bedford Square. Having primed himself ,with,a good dinner, ECoOMmicloooks (C(O)