Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

TSEC ee Lew ee eT pe Se aN Ym ne ne IRS GR ee cre Fe Ls eR . b =f SIX LEGS ARE WELCOME 45 young girl at her first party—except that it was black. She had the wide, gentle face of the Indian, with eyes far apart and hair growing low on the forehead; but her mouth and her nose and all the rest of her were Spanish of the loveliest. I couldn’t get much out of her but “ sé, sefior,” and “ no, senor.’ Very haughty indeed. Full of conventional little parlour tricks. She wouldn’t touch anything but lemonade. The line would have gone over very well in Buenos Aires, but I thought she was overdoing it for Posadas where we all liked a bit of slap- and-tickle with, say, the third round of drinks. I spent an hour with her and then cleared out. I told Don Luis he was right—that she wasn’t at all the sort for a hardworking man. All the same I could not get her out of my mind. Her face was so selfless and serious, too comfortable for a place like the Estrella de la Banda. Not that there aren’t some perfect beauties about in cabarets, as well as in shops and offices. But her type was different. I’ve often thought about it since, and I can’t put it better than this. You didn’t feel she was bothering about being loved. She wanted to love. Her name was Rosalinda Torres. But I couldn’t guess much from that. Rosalinda sounded professional. On the other hand they do like, out here in the backwoods, to give their daughters high-sounding names. There was no steamer next day, so I had nothing to do but hang around in the heat and slap at all the life coming down on the north wind, just like you chaps who travel for pleasure. By the evening my curiosity was greater than ever. I call it curiosity. But I thought I would be quite ready to take it to another table if young Rosalinda showed no interest in it. She was sitting with the Captain of the Port, whom I did not like to interrupt, for the sake of favours to come. However, he wasn’t a wealthy man—in spite of all the help we shippers used to give him for the sake of his dear wife and children—and he soon got the same impression as | had the previous night. Mean- while I was surprised to find myself a bit short with the other girls who wanted to share my whisky. I had the sense to play up to Rosalinda’s act. So, instead of beckoning or sending the waiter for her, I went over hat in hand. She gave me a reasonably courteous little nod, and indicated that I might sit down. We got on a little better until I told her that I was English. That closed her up tight. I gathered that foreigners were right out of her experience—as terrifying as a jaguar until you are sure it isn’t hungry. comiclooks.comn