The Argosy — page 196: what you’re looking at

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

Lady Valeria. 179 ‘‘and answered as I expected. A relic of young Sam Paramount’s presence. His sister recognised it directly. I might have guessed whose pocket it came from.” “Well, I should not have thought it of the boy. He doesn’t go in for that line of mischief % ‘* Besides he’s so uncommonly useful in your Amateur Orchestral Society, eh? I ought to have known better than to disparage the one Clarinet to the conductor.” And with a laugh Eustace tore the card across and dropped it in the wastepaper basket. Then in came an archeologist waiting to explore ; a genteel female with a questionable petition and subscription list ; two girls to give in their names for Confirmation ; a converted gas-fitter with a Mission —also a new patent burner to sell ; a lay-helper for instructions ; and a rosy errand-boy out of breath to pay a friendly call, and thank the Vicar for getting him his place. He was the last, except the postman, and when he too had departed, and the clock struck the hour, forth sallied Mrs. Goodliffe triumphantly, and ordering maid and broom to the front, saw the steps restored to their pristine fairness. The bells began to ring for the morning service, but they fell unheeded on Eustace’s ears. He had closed his door gently on the last comer, and shut himself in with his thoughts. He had done with them now—these intruders from without, who had pressed in with their paltry needs between him and the gracious memory of her presence, just as their footsteps had trampled out the trace hers might have left. He noted the very spot on his bare deal table where her slim gloved hand had rested. From the dusky shadow of her hat, two bright eyes seemed to shine out reproachfully on him. The scent of the red rose nestling against her white throat still lingered in the air.—What was that lying at his feet? The very rose, crushed and trodden out of all loveliness, where she had dropped it. He picked it up and held it—not with a lover’s touch, but with a secret passionate grip like a stolen gem, his breath coming quickly, and his eyes gleaming almost fiercely. Then he did acurious thing. Kneeling before his fire, very tenderly he plucked leaf by leaf away, dropping them one by one into the heart of the glowing embers, watching them shrivel and vanish in faint, white filmy ashes, till nought remained but the crushed and battered calyx. He looked at it greedily as it lay on his open palm. ‘“ Not even this, except of her own free gift.” He spoke under his breath, but even as he spoke he bent and kissed it—once—twice, and then dropped it with the rest. EGOMINIGIOOKS (CO)