The Argosy — page 126: what you’re looking at

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

Roger Bevere. II3 “ As quiet as a lamb if you like,” laughed Lizzie, and crept out on tiptoe. She was always good-humoured. One afternoon when I went in, Lizzie had a visitor in the parlour. Miss Panken! The two, evidently on terms of close friendship, were laughing and joking frantically ; Lizzie’s head with its clouds of red- gold hair, was drawn close to the other head and the mass of black braids adorning it. Miss Panken sat sipping a cup of tea; Lizzie a tumbler of hot water that gave forth a suspicious odour. *T’ye got a headache, Mr. Johnny,” said she: and I marvelled that she did not, in her impudence, leave the “Mr.” out. ‘“ Hot gin-and-water is the very best remedy you can take for it.” Shrieks of laughter from both the girls followed me up stairs to Roger’s bedside : Miss Panken was relating some joke about her com- panion, Mabel. Roger said his arm was a trifle better. It always felt so when Pitt had been to it. “Who is it that’s down stairs now?” he asked, fretfully, as the bursts of merriment sounded through the floor, ‘Sit down, Johnny.” “Tt’s a girl from the Bell-and-Clapper refreshment room. Miss Panken they call her.” Roger frowned. ‘I have told Lizzie over and over again that I’d not have those girls encouraged here. What can possess her to do it?” And, after saying that, he passed into one of those fits of rest- lessness that used to attack him at Gibraltar Terrace. “Look here, Roger,” I said, presently, ‘‘ couldn’t you—pull up 2 bit? Couldn’t you put all this nonsense away ?”’ Which nonsense ?”’ he retorted. “What would Mr. Brandon say if he knew it P—I’ll not speak of your mother. It is not nice, you know; it is not indeed.” ** Can’t you speak out ?” he returned, with intense irritation. ‘ Put what away?” * Lizzie.” I spoke the name under my breath, not liking to say it, though I had wanted to for some time. All the anger seemed to go out of Roger. He lay still as death. ** Can't you, Roger?” “Too late, Johnny,” came back the answer in a whisper of pain. sc Why ? Pl ‘She is my wife.” I leaped from my chair in a sort of terror. ‘‘ No, no, Roger, don’t say that! don’t say it for the love of heaven! It cannot be.” “But it zs,” he groaned. ‘These eighteen months past.” I stood dazed; all my senses in a whirl. Roger kept silence, his face turned to the pillow. And the laughter from below came surging up. I had no heart affection that I was aware of, but I had to press my hand to still its thumping as I leaned over Roger. CONNIE IOOKS (E(©) m