The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

92 was forgotten, and many things had happened, and they had seen a good deal of each other, their acquaintance had reached a stage that might be de- scribed as a sort of twilight region between friendship and love. The twilight had been deepening steadily ever since. “And do you remember,’ contin- ued Osgood, wincing slightly, “ her prophecy? It was almost identical with this one. She, too, foretold a great darkness for you. And she said it might come in two or three years’ time.” “Yes, but that was only in fun. And I don’t think she meant that kind of darkness. Besides, she knew noth- ing about palm-reading. She said so herself.” “But it’s strange that the woman this afternoon should say the same thing. And then there’s your own ex- perience—the things you have noticed lately yourself. They all point in the same direction. It looks—’’ He hesitated. “Looks what?” “Well,” said Osgood uncomfort- ably, ‘‘it looks as though it might be coming on.” “What might be coming on? ” “You know what I mean—this eye- sight trouble. Of course, it might not happen at all. But, then, it might hap- pen soon.”’ “Oh, the matter of the two predic- tions is only a coincidence,” retorted Bennett lightly. ‘ You’re always wor- rying about these fortune-tellers.” “ Perhaps; but it has always been in connection with myself. This is dif- ferent. This is you. I tell you, Ben- nett, you may laugh, but it looks as though it might be really a serious mat- ter. Prevention is better than cure, anyway. If I were you I would go to an oculist and have my eyes exam- ined. I’d do it right away.” “Well,” rejoined Bennett careless- ly, ‘“ perhaps you’re right. I suppose I would better see about it, and will.” He glanced at his watch. THE ARGOSY. “Here,” he added, “I must be going. I’ve got to meet Miss Trevor. She ought to be here almost any min- ute now. She may have arrived al- ready. Suppose we go see?” Osgood made no objection. Although he stood high in the list of her friends, he was losing in the race of love, he knew. But Miss Trevor’s society was still very attractive to him. The fact that she preferred another— a fact he suspected and of which he felt fairly certain—did not lessen his desire to see her. In other words, he had not yet given up. Osgood was not one of those intense people who must either own or do without. And in his heart he had not yet abandoned all hope of owning. He knew the odds were against him. He knew that Bennett had made great strides in Miss Trevor’s estimation— such great strides that every one else, and there were many others in the field, was left far behind, himself in- cluded, although he might be classed as the leader of the also-rans. He did not intend, however, to re- linquish all thought of Edith Trevor until she had actually married Bennett. Until the ceremony itself actually took place he had a chance. He meant to make the most of it. Most men are unable to conceal their great emotions from their intimates. But no one knew Osgood’s aim. No one had even an inkling of the state of his feelings. Perhaps this was because he had such perfect control of himself, of every feature, every gesture. Per- haps it was because he had no inti- mates. Edith Trevor herself had no idea of the strength of Osgood’s desire. She knew, as every girl knows men’s feelings toward her, that he admired her. She had an idea that he liked her better than others, that he sought her society more than he did other girls’. But she did not suspect more than that. Much less did Bennett. The-two men never discussed the subject. Their un- derstanding, entirely unspoken, was oO COMmMiclhoo S CO