The Argosy — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

Mrs. Raven’s Temptation. 85 An old judge’s faded portrait looked down from the wall, and held its peace. Hot tears might fall on the clean pillows. If they did, who should know? In the morning, when Frank opened his portmanteau, he lifted out the newspaper which Charity Hale had spread over his clothes, and something in it caught his eye. It was only a line printed in capital letters, at the top of that column wherein New Forest farmers an- nounced their withdrawal from responsibility for their wives’ debts, or New Forest lovers telegraphed to each other in very simple cipher. But this line only set forth a date— “THE 4TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1835.” It was the date of Frank’s own birthday. “‘T wonder what that means?” he pondered. ‘‘It was the time when one unlucky fellow came into the world. I hope it means better fortune of some sort for somebody. Anyway, it can’t concern me.” CHAPTER VI. THE FRONT PARLOUR AND THE BACK. FRANK RAveEN had to get through his first day in London as best he might. Philip Connell had to be out, and could do no more for his cousin than make him free of his books and his cigar case. He began to wonder whom Philip meant to take him to see. He had heard nothing beyond her name—Gertrude Agate. Philip had not recurred to the subject: probably he had forgotten his own suggestion. Mr. Connell came in, breathlessly apologising for having been de- tained so long, and they got through their dinner. “Come along now, Frank!” said Philip, ‘‘ we will go off and see Miss Agate. I hope you won’t be frightened at her. Not that she is at all frightful, only she is a very different style of person, and sur- rounded by a very different order of things, from what you have been accustomed to. I shan’t tell you anything beforehand. Life has not so many sensations that I can afford to miss the sight of your bewilderment.” | They had a long walk. It ended in that purlieu of poor streets which lies between Oxford Street and the New Road. Some of these streets had had, in their day, no mean pretensions to gentility, but they were now poor, and full of struggles for bare existence. Still, it was streets such as these which had always captivated Frank’s imagination during his brief London experiences in days gone by. The very faces he met in these places, swiftly passing by, had sug- gested to him endless possibilities of romance and tragedy. And cConniclbooolks (CO)