The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

BEFORE, THE DARK. mentioned the fortune-teller’s predic- tion, and referred again to Miss Tre- vor’s prophecy of two years previous. ‘How did the colonel end up?” she inquired. ‘‘ Was he angry?” ‘Oh, no! He was very pleasant. We got to talking about other things. It was all I could do to get away. I positively had to cut him short and run.” “You were lucky,” said Osgood. “This eye business saved you.” There was a silence, and when the conversation was renewed it was on a different topic. An animated discus- sion of baseball occupied them until the train arrived at its destination. The three walked slowly out of the station together. Then Bennett paused. It was Osgood’s cue. Know- ing what he had learned that afternoon, he realized the situation, and did nat delay his departure. He looked rather hard at Edith for a moment, so hard that she flushed a little and, telling Bennett he would see him in the morn- ing, turned away. They watched his graceful figure disappear in the whirl of traffic, and then went on down the street, her arm very close and tight against his. “Won't you come in for a few min- utes, Mr. Bennett?’ she said, for the benefit of the servant, when they reached the house. He went in, and she took him to the library. Here they were away from everybody. He waited until she was seated, and then put himself in a big armchair opposite her. they sat facing each other, saying noth- ing, but each giving the other the same look—the look of love. Suddenly he spoke. “You haven’t any faith in fortune- telling and all that sort of thing, have you?” he said. “No,” she answered. Yet she shivered slightly, although the room was quite warm. He noticed the movement, but said nothing. “ That sort of mistake won’t happen again, dear,” he said. For some time 105 “I do hope not. You'll go to an oculist, won’t you? I’m—I’m a little afraid, after what occurred this after- noon.” “ Of course I will. But don’t worry about it, dear. I’m all right. I hope Osgood hasn’t frightened yau. What did he say to you while you two walked up to the station? ”’ “He told me about the fortune- teller, and seemed greatly concerned about your eyes, and I told him how glad I was that you two were such good friends, and he said you had been up till now ; but—well, and then he told me he loved me.” “What?” “Yes. I told him it was impossible. He pressed me for an answer, and then I told him about you.” “So he knows.” | “Yes. He knows and understands, and ’’—she smiled—“ it finished rather well, with the understanding that we're going to be perfectly good friends.” “‘That’s good,” said Bennett quietly. “Yes, I’m glad there isn’t going to be any change— between you two especially.” ‘ Yes,” murmured Bennett thought- fully. ““ Because,” she added, “ that would have—well, it would have spoiled things. As it is, everything is perfect. Perfect,’ she repeated dreamily. “Yes,” he said, drawing closer; “ perfect.” Osgood, meanwhile, had _ gone straight to his club. Immediately on his arrival he asked for a Dr. Walling. It appeared that Dr. Walling was somewhere about, but no one knew exactly where. Osgood impatiently requested that he be paged. The page started off. . Walling was an old school friend of Osgood’s, and an oculist of growing reputation. It is customary to speak of old school friends as “ of growing reputation,” but Walling really was en- titled to the description. He was mov- ing up, pushing to the front. CoOMmicbook CO