Argosy, September 1955 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

28 H. E. BATES “She got on at Lisbon, Mr. Manson,” the purser said. ‘‘ She said she called you from there.” A small quantity of pearl-grey luggage, splashed with varnished scarlet labels, among them the letter V, stood by the purser’s door. Staring down at it, Manson tried to remember back through a long drowsy day to some point where a cable might have blown in, rushed past him and, like the cortége of racing mourners, have disappeared. ° He could not recall any cable, and the purser said, “I had better take her luggage up. I promised to look after her.’? He began to pick up suitcases, tucking the smallest under his arms. “She seems to like being looked after. Perhaps you will bring the last one, Mr. Manson ?—Thank you.” No one else had come aboard except a harbour policeman in flabby grey ducks, so thin that he seemed impossibly weighed down by black bayonet and revolver; and a customs officer in crumpled washed-out sienna gaberdine. ‘These two stood sweating at the head of the companion-way, the policeman with thumbs in his drooping belt. There was not even the usual collection of hotel porters’ caps on the ship because every hotel was closed. “* Where is she staying? ’? Manson called. ‘‘ There isn’t a single hotel open.” *I told her that. She said she did not mind. I told her you would see all about it.” ** She’s nothing to do with me.”’ * She’s English. I told her you would do it—”’ “Do what? I’m not a sightseeing guide for anybody who comes and dumps themselves down here in the middle of summer.”’ He felt his hands grow sweaty on the high-polished fabric of the suitcase handle. He knew, he thought, all that English women could be. Ill-clad in worsted, horribly surpliced in porridge- coloured shantung, they arrived sometimes as if expecting the island to yield the horse-drawn charm of 1890, when everything could be had or done by the clapping of hands. ** Anyway, I had no warning,” he said. ‘“‘ What warning had I? ») He thought he saw the customs officer grin at this, and it annoyed him further. ** She said she called you herself, Mr. Manson,” the purser said. *“ T’ve seen no sign of a call,” he said. ‘‘ And, anyway, cable or no cable—”’ “It was awfully good of you to meet me,”’ a voice said. When he turned, abruptly, at the same time as the sweat-bright faces of the policeman, the customs officer, and the purser, he saw her standing behind him, a tall, black-haired girl, with an amazing combination of large pure blue eyes and black lashes, her hair striped across the front with a leonine streak of tawny blonde. He found himself at once resenting and resisting this paler streak of hair. > comiclooks.conn