The Argosy — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

160 Isabel Clifford, M.D. portly Germans and one or two decidedly French-looking women. ‘‘T hope she will come, though. It would be interesting.” “Don’t say that, Tom,” pleaded his wife, feeling uncomfortable. “Be sure and point her out to me, if you see her,” said Isabel, ‘for of course she won’t mind being stared at.” “Do you really think so?” . “Well, we won’t stare. We'll only look,” said Isabel, conscious that Mrs. Lawrence was dismayed. ‘What are you going to look at, Isabel ?” asked her aunt, as they rose from table. “Only a curious specimen that Mr. Lawrence thinks he may be able to show me,” she returned, with a pleasant smile. Out on the terrace Mrs. Lawrence took hold of Isabel’s arm. ‘““My dear, what do you mean?” she said, in a low tone. ‘“ Tom would never tell anybody. And he loves Nellie so, that I think he ought to be told how ill she was.” “That seems anodd reason. But do what you think right,” said Isabel, with a sigh. ‘It’s only for the sake of my own comfort, and that, of course, isn’t worth considering.” “Oh, then, I won’t tell—if I can help it!” said Mrs. Lawrence, with a repentant impulse. ‘““Do as you like. Good night!” answered Isabel, and followed her aunt into the hotel. ‘Now for the secret,” said Mr. Lawrence, establishing his wife in an arm-chair, and placing himself at her feet. "Tom, I can’t tell you. Don’t ask me!” ‘“But you shouldn’t have secrets from your husband. It’s wicked.” “Youll know it one day,” replied his wife, with an air of supe- riority that wrought her doom. ‘““T can’t wait. Dm impatient. I command you to tell me, Mrs. Lawrence.” ‘““T never, never will, Mr. Lawrence. So there!” The little woman looked down on him with an expression of vast determination. He changed his tactics. ‘““T know if it were anything of importance you would tell me, so it is hardly worth asking about. Let’s talk of something else.” ‘“‘Jt’s tremendously important.” “You have been excited over it, my little wife, whatever it was. Has Miss Clifford a genius for—what do you call it >—making babies’ gowns P” “Oh, you foolish Tom. As if I should be excited over that! No,” and her voice trembled. “It was a great thing that she did for us— for you and for me, Tom.” “Was it about Nellie?” he asked, all the playfulness now thrown aside. FR IRHYHD : Feicuexo Fa ‘Qh, she told me not to tell you, but I must. Nellie was so ill one night ; I was frightened ; I could not leave her even to call Marie, and €om l an \ 2] 0)(0)(0)| KS,(E(6) m