Argosy, Vol. 122, No. 1 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

THE CARAVAN sunburned, rather saturnine face which she appraised as highly interesting. She ad- mired the ease with which the man left the room, and the nonchalance with which he had worn spurs and norfolk jacket into the tea-room. His dark, keen eyes, and neat black mustache quite satisfied her. She noted that he had been alone at his table, and that the waiter had received a moderate tip ‘respectfully. She sighed. The romance of her life had recently taken by default the guise of easily digestible novels; but Catherine Rand flat- tered herself she was yet young in spirit. Her exact age had become, of late years, an uncertain quantity, known only to her brother, who was considerately discreet, and to Edith, who was not. She was tall, brown-haired—at some pains—and present- able. ‘Now, I wonder who he is?” she thought; aloud she added: ‘‘ We have been here some time. When are we leaving?” Arthur Rand came out of a brown study, ‘to shake his head. At that very moment he was expecting an important business letter that might send him to Chile or Alaska or elsewhere. His affairs were more than usu- ally tangled, owing to very heavy invest- ment in a copper company with mines lo- cated in South America and the Klondike. ‘“‘ Soon,” he responded. “I'd give a right smart lot of money to know where.” Catherine Rand bridled, at the unfortu- nate choice of words, and rose. She did not care to discuss what she termed busi- © ness. To her-a copper mine was a hole in the ground that gave forth money. Her brother knew better. He had associated himself with a company endeavoring to combine several silver and copper enter- prises. But at present, owing largely to the ignorance of those in control, the company was more productive of indebtedness than earnings. Arthur Rand was more than a little wor- ried, despite his easy-going nature. Not for the world, however, would he have allowed Edith to guess this. | He followed the imposing figure of his sister up-stairs to the small lobby. At the - desk she called up Edith’s room, to learn that the girl had not yet come in. Also, she failed to discover the name of the man -accustomed to such remarks. - realized that she was late. OF THE DEAD. | 9 in riding-clothes who had inquired fruit- lessly at that moment for his mail. Being slightly hard of hearing, she heard it pro- nounced as “ Money.” “Money,” she thought, pursing her lips, ‘“‘and good-looking—very. I always like the dark, self-possessed type. Now, I won- der—” : She went to her room _ thoughtfully. Catherine Rand was really devoted to Edith, and her matrimonial - conjectures. were well meant. The Rands had gone to their rooms to change, and evening dress was making its appearance in the lobby when Edith en- tered. : She was glowing with the rush of cold air. Her short skirt and soft, blue sweater clung to the shape of a splendid figure, taller perhaps than that of the average woman. Under the silk tam, her hair was reckless of confinement. Many feminine eyes scanned Edith’s hair and regretfully perceived that it was a natural color, in spite of the gleam of dull gold. . ‘* A goddess,”’ murmured a new masculine arrival, staring. ‘‘ A Greek goddess, on my word.” . | ‘““ Dear chap,” uttered a friend, “‘ mythol- ogy teaches us the Greeks were brunettes. Say a Scandinavian storm divinity and I’m with you—’’ Edith had quick ears, but her gray eyes did not seek out the two men. She was She did not like them. She made her way quietly into the crowd around the desk, whereupon a clerk who had been explaining the mystery of Canadian-American exchange to a trou- bled tourist, hurried toward her and sought out her mail at the girl’s brief request. Edith glanced idly about the lobby, and Also hungry, decidedly so. She had been enjoying her- self hugely, and her eyes still sparkled. “‘ Carries herself well,’’ meditated the advocate of the classics, “and has a haughty eye. Good family, I should say, and knows it—” | “More likely,” interposed the friend, ‘“‘plays tennis and swims. Wager the din- ner check on that.” : cComiclbooks.com