The Argosy — page 241: what you’re looking at

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

224 “ Her Francs.” gave her a vague idea that she must be “up and doing.” As she jumped down she dragged the ulster with her, and as she lifted it up a letter fell out of one of the pockets. She would have been no true daughter of Eve had she not been seized with a desire to know the name of the owner of that coat, under the comforting warmth of which she had slept so well and also dreamt that ridiculous dream. “Why should I not know the name?” she asked herself, picking up the letter. And as there was no one to answer her—only her very natural curiosity to urge her the other way—she did read the name :— “ Francis Grantley, Esquire ! ” II. “Now don’t be foolish and get excited about nothing,” said Mabel to» herself “‘ for you would have dreamt exactly the same dream if Mr. Grantley’s name had been Thomas or John.” ‘This seemed so true’ that she did preserve some calmness of mind. ‘‘ Any way you and he are never likely to meet as long as you live, for he is probably on his way to India, or regions equally remote.” And with this last self- comforting admonition she resolutely put the letter back in its place and folded up the coat. ‘He was never called Frank, I am sure,” she soliloquized, unable’ to keep from the forbidden subject, as she remarked the unusual’ length and breadth of the coat, ‘though of course Franks are of all sizes. Poor man!” she continued as she felt its thickness. ‘“ Per- haps if he had known what a boon it was to me he would not have minded so much shivering all night. I wish I could let him know how much obliged I am.—— And why should he not know it?” as a sudden thought struck her. If she could have spoken Italian she would have left a message with the landlord ; therefore, instead, she scribbled in pencil, on the: back of the letter: ** Many thanks for the loan of the coat.” What is done cannot be undone. Perhaps no one ever realised. that more thoroughly than did Mabel Talbot, when she saw those few pencilled words of hers staring back at her from a stranger’s letter. She could not possibly tear up the envelope; she could only thrust the letter back into the pocket of the coat and hide her own deed from her own eyes. How devoutly she hoped that Mr. Grantley really was on his way to India! The further off the better. And during her journey she registered many a vow never again to act on any occasion in life without due reflection. The Keiths had rooms on the sunny side of the river, on the Lung” Arno Acciajoli ; and coming, as Mabel did, from the gray November skies of England, she perfectly revelled in the sunny weather which set in on her arrival in that brightest of cities. She was also, according. CONNIE OOO KS