The Argosy — page 354: what you’re looking at

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

340 A Secret of the Sea. ‘What is it? what isit?” he quavered. ‘“ Flowers, eh? Vastly pretty—vastly pretty.” ‘“ Mr. Van Duren has brought me these lovely flowers as a birthday present, papa,” said Miriam, speaking loudly in his ear. “ Very kind of him—very kind indeed,” nodding his head at Miriam. ‘But come in, Mr. Van Duren, come in, sir. Pussy and I were just about to have a quiet cup of tea. Come and join us, sir, come and join us. I like a quiet cup of tea: so does Pussy.” “‘T should be most happy, if I thought ‘Tf you thought you were not intruding,” said Miriam. ‘You are not doing that, I assure you. See, I will give your flowers the place of honour on my tea-table. But perhaps you are not a tea drinker— perhaps “Oh, yes, Iam. Only I never can bear to drink tea alone. I think it a great promoter of sociability, and I only indulge in it when I have some one to keep me company.” ‘Then come and keep me company for once,” said Miriam, with a smile, her magnificent eyes looking full into his face. He shranka little before that full-orbed gaze. For a moment or two the colour left his lips. He smiled faintly, and rubbed his hands together, as though he were cold. ‘Tf I had the inclination to refuse, which indeed I have not,” he said, “it would be impossible for me to do so after such an invitation. I can quite imagine that your life here is a little dull at times,” he added, as he drew a chair up to the table. ‘Tt certainly cannot be called a very lively one,” returned Miriam, as she began to pour out the tea. “Poor dear papa is both very old and very feeble, and then his deafness is a great drawback, and makes home duller than it would otherwise be.” ‘¢ But you have a brother, have you not ?” “Yes, one brother.” “In the City e” “No, not in the Cay. He is secretary to a gentleman at the West End.” Peter Byrne, after sniffing once or twice at the flowers, toddled back to his easy-chair by the fire, and spreading his handkerchief over his knees, waited patiently for his tea. This Miriam now took to him, placing it on a little low table in front of him. ‘“ Good girl, good girl,” he said. ‘Then turning suddenly on Van Duren, he added: ‘“‘ When I was a young spark, I always liked to have a flower in my button-hole. The girls used to beg them of me—bless their pretty eyes! I daresay the young hussies nowadays do the very same thing.” Max Van Duren, at this time, was fifty years old. He was not very tall, but broad-set and strongly built. His coarse, short-cut, sandy hair showed as yet few traces of age. His face, for some reason, in the CORnniclooolkks (CO)