The Argosy — page 337: what you’re looking at

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

318 Mr. Fermyn’s Racquet. The man who had come out of the side room was in the act of closing a letter, and noticed nothing of Miss Raymond’s confusion. He went rattling on easily. ‘Most unfortunate, Jermyn! queer too, eh? Do you often have pains in your arm without knowing why? If you weren’t above and beyond all the best player here, one would think you had done it on purpose.” Mr. Jermyn laughed. ‘You might, perhaps; I am sure Miss Raymond would never be so cruel.” ‘“When did the shock come on?” continued the first speaker, getting out a stamp for his letter. Mr. Jermyn passed his left hand up his right arm, feeling it care- fully. ‘“‘ Even last night,” he said, ‘‘I felt doubtful whether I should be able to play to-day.” They had moved forward, and were standing in the doorway now. The quiet grey smoke of the little town was going silently up to the still heavens, and fairy-like white sails were dancing all about in the bay. The straight road, sloping down to the town from this, was already thickly strewed with gaily dressed people coming to witness the match, and the enclosure around the tennis ground had rapidly begun to fill. ‘They were alone again—Mr. Jermyn and Miss Ray- mond. With his left arm he carelessly raised a field-glass to examine the bay. Did he know? Aurora Raymond’s heart was beating. “Mr. Jermyn,” she began, hesitatingly. He lowered the field-glass and turned to her. ‘“‘T beg your pardon,” said he, coolly. She felt her face flush under his eyes; she paused an instant, and held out her hand for the field-glass. ‘May I have a look at the bay ?” she inquired, hastily. “ Certainly,” said Mr. Jermyn. ‘I should have thought, however, that an examination of the tennis-court was more in your way. Pardon me; that is the proper focus for the bay.” Did he know? She had been screwing and unscrewing it blindly. At his last words she checked herself, and looked straight through it. “ T can see—a frigate,” she said, with no other object than that of at least saying something. He crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar. “Well,” smiled he. ‘ Nowturn it on the tennis-court for a change.. Perhaps you may see—a racquet.” The rich colour swept all over her face. She lowered the glass at once, her lips quivering. ‘Mr. Jermyn,” she began for the second time. ‘Pardon me,” he interrupted, quickly. ‘You must turn the screw in the other direction, if you really wish to focus the court.” CORNIC LOOKS (eC)