The Argosy — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

38 Roger Bevere. The parlour, small and shabby as was Mrs. Mapping’s in Gibraltar Terrace, was on the left, its door likewise open. Seated at a table, taking his tea, was Roger Bevere; opposite to him, presiding over the ceremonies, sat a lady who must unquestionably have been first-cousin to those damsels at the Bell-and-Clapper, if one might judge by the hair. “Roger!” Texclaimed. ‘* What a dance you have led us!” He started up with a scarlet face, his manner strangely confused, his tongue for the moment lost. And then I saw that he was without his coat, and his arm was bandaged. ‘““T was going to write to you,” he said—an excuse invented on the spur of the moment. ‘I thought to be about before now, but my arm got bad again.” ** How was that?” ‘Well, I hurt it, and did not pay attention to it. It is properly inflamed now.” I took aseat on the red stuff sofa without being invited, and Bevere dropped into his chair. The lady at the tea-tray had been regarding me with a free, friendly, unabashed gaze. She was a well-grown, attractive young woman, with a saucy face, and bright complexion, fine dark eyes, and fullred lips. Her abundant hair was of the pecu- jiar and rare colour that some people call red and others gold. As to her manners, they were as assured as Miss Panken’s, but a vast deal pleasanter. I wondered who she was and what she did there. ‘So this is Johnny Ludlow that I’ve heard tell of !” she exclaimed, catching up my name from Bevere, and sending me a gracious nod. ‘‘ Shall I give you a cup of tea ?” “No, thank you,” was my answer, though all the while as thirsty as a fish, for the afternoon was hot. ‘Oh, you had better: don’t stand on ceremony,” she said, laughing. ‘“There’s nothing like a good cup of tea when the throat’s dry and the weather’s baking. Come! make yourself at home.” “ Be quiet, Lizzie,” struck in Bevere, his tone ringing with annoy- ance and pain. ‘Let Mr. Ludlow do as he pleases.” And it struck me that he did not want me to take the tea. Scott came in then, and looked surprised to see me: he had been out to get something for Bevere’s arm. I felt by intuition that he had known where Bevere was all along, that his assumption of ignor- ance was a pretence. He and the young lady seemed to be upon excellent terms, as though they had been acquainted for ages. The arm looked very bad: worse than it had at Gibraltar Terrace. I stood by when Scott took off the bandages. He touched it here and there. ‘TI tell you what, Bevere,” he said: “‘you had better let Pitt see to this again. He got it right before ; and—lI don’t much like the look of it.” ‘Nonsense !” returned Bevere. ‘I don’t want Pitt here.” Eomichbooks.co