Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

DOUBLES AND QUITS. moment, of course, Amy myst have her head. And what of Loraine? What were her feelings toward this stranger she had reck- lessly pledged herself to marry? Was it possible that the girl could retain even a shadow of self-respect after making such a bargain? But, poor thing, so warped and twisted had become her conception of life that she actually hailed Peter Tremlett as one who would help to restore her self-respect. She was selling herself to him in order to obtain a greater freedom, or so she hoped—a free- dom of the soul. Never again would she need to dance and so bring on that tortur- ing pain which had driven her to drugs. Never again would the tempter with his il- licit wares cross her path. She scarcely gave a thought to the man who was to be her husband. CHAPTER XX‘i. THE NEW “ MISS DREW.” OW Amy Marshall got through that H first day she could never afterward remember with any certainty of de- tail. It was just one long, mad series of blunders, during which she lost her head times without number. | | To begin with, there was the stage door of the Augustin Theater, where a man be- hind a wicket challenged her entrance by asking for her name. Unthinkingly she said ‘“‘ Marshall,” and, running an eye down his list, he told her that the chorus was full up and no more applications were to be considered. “But I—I was told—I mean to say, I’m already engaged,” she stammered. Then of course she remembered that her name now was Loraine Drew, and the man said: | “Qh, yes, ‘Drew’s’ all right. find Mr. Punter on the stage.” It was the beginning of all the mistakes, and she felt that she had made a bad start, not realizing that the doorkeeper was quite used to young ladies of the stage calling themselves by different names and did not give the incident even a query in his mind. You'll 101 In the corridor she passed with averted eyes a tall blond girl who caught her sharp- ly by the arm, “Well, what are you cutting me for?” the girl demanded. Loraine had said that there was only one member of the newly selected chorus with whom she was acquainted, and out of her dense mental confusion Amy realized that this must be the one. Heavens, what was her name? “I’m sorry; I didn’t see you,” Amy apol- ogized. “ You didn’t want to see me, and I know why,” snapped the tall blond. ‘I suppose you think I don’t know you’ve ‘ lamped’ ‘Teddie Butcher, but if you think I’m going to stand for any boy-stealing from me, you're good and mistaken, Loraine Drew. I'll put him wise to some of your funny little habits, see if I don’t. He’s a straight kid and hates dope like poison. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.” Releasing Amy, the girl tossed her head and passed on. So here was a ready-made enemy. The dismayed Amy remembered that the girl’s name was Leslie Allison, but Teddie Butcher was a person who had never been mentioned. She paused for a few seconds at the end of the corridor in order to collect her scat- tered wits. From Miss Allison’s impas- sioned speech she gathered that this Teddie Butcher, whoever he was, had lately trans- ferred his affections from Leslie to Loraine; and again that mysterious word “ dope” had cropped up. Could it be possible that she had stepped into the shoes of a girl who was known to be a drug fiend? Loraine had given her the merest hint, to which Old Sponger had added another, and now her inherited enemy, Leslie Allison, had made the matter a little plainer. The stage manager—how was she to ad- dress him? As an intimate? A chatter of voices told her which way to go, and she emerged through the dusty wings onto the great stage of the Augustin. A boy thrust a musical score into her hand, and she tried to lose herself among the thirty or more girls who were waiting for the rehearsal to begin. Somebody called “ Mr, Punter!” and a COMmiclboo SS C©