Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 2 — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

BING, entered into his heart. He thrilled with a certain pride at the gratifying thought that he was—or would very soon be—one of them. He was dressed and groemed as well as any of them—and better than some of them. His face was shaven to the skin; his hair was neatly trimmed and carefully brushed; and he resolved that they should be kept that way. He was suddenly aware of a dominant sense of cleanliness, inside and out, as if the washing of his body had likewise cleansed his soul. He wished that his pleasing rise to the position of Mr. John Blake, of Waco, Texas, had not been contingent upon the rather dubious services that Turner would demand of him. In the sudden glow of his respectability, he felt an aversion for all that was lawless, for any act that would not aid him in securing a desired place in the community. He determined to talk to Turner about it on the merrow. Perhaps Turner would give him other work to do, work that would be harder, undeubtedly, but which would be dignified by its claim to honesty. It must be a fine thing, he reflected, to be able to look upon the world without fear, without hatred, witheut loathing; to be the friend of such people as these, to visit them in their homes, to receive their cordial “Ah! Hoew-do,-Mr. Blake. We're glad to see you!’”’ All the greetings that he had ever known were: “ Beat it, you little scamp!”’ and, later, when he grew to man’s estate, “ Beat it, you dirty tramp!” In- deed, it must be a fine thing. He must have hungered fer it all his life without realizing what it was that gnawed upon his heart-strings! A man and a woman were coming down the steps toward him. As they approached the spot where he stood, his heart quick- ened with an excited eagerness that was al- most childlike. He knew them! He couldn’t recall their names; but. he remém- bered that they were two of the few people to whom Turner had found it necessary to introduce him that evening. As they neared him, he raised his hand and awkwardly lifted his hat. The couple BANG, BOOM! 281 passed him by with the coldest of stares, the slightest of neds, and a grim silence that said enough to grip his heart. There is a great deal of the child in a mind like Paprika’s; and now, like the poor little boy who has been snubbed at the rich little boy’s party, he stared after the slight- ing pair, a dull ache in his breast. He feught against the sullen anger that threat- ened to sweep over him, for he feared that ruling passion of his, knowing well that his goed resolutions could not long survive in its hot, surging tide. ‘‘ Stuck-up’ rubes!”’ he muttered under his breath; but he promptly forgot them and his smoldering anger when he caught sight of Ruth Warren, who emerged at that moment from the auditorium. The effect upon him of seeing Ruth was that of music upon a snarling, growling beast. It had had that effect upon him when he had first seen her in the audi- torium; and with the touch of her small, firm hand in his, and the sound of her gen- — tle voice addressing him, had come that startling transfiguration of soul and that sense of righteousness that now pervaded him like a heady wine. As she descended the steps, he watched her with all his eyes, his heart singing in respense to her loveliness. When she reached the sidewalk, he approached her, his hat in his hand. “Good evenin’, miss,” he said humbly. ‘“‘Can I—maybe you'd let me walk home with you, miss?”’ | She drew back from him, as if to avoid the contamination of his touch. He could not fail to see the manifest disgust with which she regarded him. ‘““No, thank you,” she replied, her voice colder, perhaps, than she intended to make it. “I prefer going home alone.” Without a word, he stepped aside to let her pass on; and when she had left him, he stared after her with narrowed eyes, his hat crushed in his hands, his teeth locked so that his massive jaws bulged his cheeks. There had been no mere snobbishness in her refusal. Even. Paprika, who had no knowledge of the finer sensibilities, realized that. He had read in her eyes the revul- sion of feeling that came over her at his -- GOR GOO S COM