The Argosy — page 200: what you’re looking at

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

Winifred Power. 183 Quince; ‘and Gertrude, my child, have you a couple of sove- reigns ?” Gertrude produced the money. ‘‘T am happy to be able to pay my small arrears of rent, Mrs. Marks,” said Ralph, promptly handing over one of the coins to the landlady. “ And now will you get my niece some supper ?” The sight of the money had a magical effect, and Mrs. Marks vanished quite good-humouredly and briskly. The next morning when Gertrude, after a sufficiently uncomfortable night, descended, she found her uncle very carefully and sprucely dressed, and with an air of great solemnity. ‘T have thought of a place for you,” he said. ‘ Make haste to breakfast. It is already ten o’clock and we should lose no time.” “Have you avy respectable acquaintances?” asked Gertrude. “A few,” replied Ralph, quite unmoved by the taunt. “A variety of employments has brought me into contact with a variety of people, and one or two of these have not yet found me out.” Gertrude’s spirits were rising rapidly. A born Bohemian and blessed with all the elasticity of a Dallas, she found more charm in her present position than life at The Limes had ever afforded her. For though she loved luxury, she rebelled against respectability. And now, with her natural indolence, she was glad to throw upon him the whole burden of providing for her immediate future. They took a cab and drove to a pretty house, set deep in a shady and charming garden in the umbrageous north-western suburb of London. A neat and noiseless little maid opened the door, and ushered them into a house where a conventual stillness seemed to reign, But Gertrude was quick to note the quiet comfort and elegance of everything in the little drawing-room. It was fragrant with the scent of flowers floating in through the open window from the garden, now adorned with the brief loveliness of the “leafy month of June.” The door opened presently, and a man, not old, but delicate- looking, prematurely bald and bowed, came softly in. His high- bred sensitive face struck Gertrude with a genuine admiration. Involuntarily she rose and—all her semi-histrionic instincts aroused— looked instantaneously respectful, interested, and interesting. **Mr. Graham. My niece, Miss Dallas.” “I am very glad to see you, Mr. Mercer,” said Mr. Graham, after bowing courteously to Gertrude and offering her a seat. “I was afraid that you had forgotten the promise you made me on the day when you were so kind to my son at Brighton.” Gertrude could not refrain from a curious glance at her uncle. That kindness must have been marked indeed, she reflected, which could establish any tie of sympathy between these two men, so widely opposed, evidently, in habits and instincts and position. “You are too kind even to remember the small service I rendered "he GOMIIGIOOKS (SO)