Pulp Fiction, 1947 · page 19 of 132
Avon Modern Short Story Monthly #36 — page 19: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1947. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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he a > ia valey We was pacified by the assurance, ‘and thie lad withdr ze “Did I not. tell you how it was?” quoth Mary. ‘Is ‘not my word | enough?” ors Bae ae | _ “Forgive the doubt,” Vaiss begged her. “Indeed, there was no doubt of you, who have shown me so much charity in my —s He sighed, and looked at her with melancholy eyes) a Bae it would the past had been other than it has been between you a and | me,” he said, ‘ ‘I-was too young for kingship, I think. In my green Boe = ichathe I listened to false counsellors,“and was quick to jealousy nd the follies it begets. Then, when you cast me out and I wandered” Py friendless, a devil took possession of me. Yet, if you will but consent “to bury all the past into oblivion, I will make amends, and © yous nal te = find me worthier hereafter.” ; Se She rose, white to the Bes her bosom heaving aitsdes bes long cloak. She turned aside and stepped ‘to the window. She stood hee Ho peering out into the gloom of the close, her knees trembling under Be hens aes : a “Why do you not answer me?” hie cred : ; _ “What answer do you need?” she said, and her voice shook. “Are you not answered: already?’ ’ And one bregthlssly, she added: Te eon: is time to go, I think.” | me a . They heard a heavy step upon he stairs and the caile of a sword = against the rails. The door opened, and Bothwell, wrapped in his — 3 scarlet cloak, stood bending his tall shoulders under the low lintel. te His gleaming eyes, so oddly mocking in'their glance, for all that his. Bt face was set, fell upon Darnley; and with their look flung him into. ys ae an inward state of blending fear and rage. | Ae 2 | “Your Grace,” said Pops deep voice, “it is close upon mids s night.” | | | ie He came no more than in time; it‘needed thi sight of hidn with its ae reminder of all that he meant to her to sustain a paper that was | oP ‘being sapped by pity.» : : 3 = ete well,” she said, “I come.’ . PED foe Bothwell stood aside to give her egress pas to invite it. But t ea King delayedher. SO F. “A moment—a word!” he begged, and to Bothwell: “Give us eave apart, sir!” , x ‘ ¥ seal