Penny Dreadfuls, 1900 · page 224 of 261
Thrice Lost, Thrice Won — page 224: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1900. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Sale Nha Som S Fad TAY e ale pe ~DeM ae y ‘ a! ee doer ee » a Tr : pd a UAL EOE hs Pag ae : : “~ AE eS Mt" \e ’.. "eos 49 Vin to ae Cae ‘y '’ vw Pi * Wg vy 2 Bo Sit p ev 2 Be ‘ a} + ty ‘oe ie 3 ' | ty vif A ge nit me n?”? 4 » eBy J are Waldron exclaimed, under his breath, “the Marble Horseman would hardly surprise me more! Look at ie sagen If Alwya Bartram be alive and in the flesh, that 1s e.’ ~, The “statue of dav marble” turned around, with a smile. | Te instant and George Waldron had started out of his seat, - flushed and excited, and was shaking hands with effusion. — +» “Then it is you, Bartram, and no wraith! And after ten "years of exile and wandering and picture-painting, you re- seems to me. We always return to the point we started from. Gad! I'd as soon have expected to behold the Grand Turk | ‘ return ?” _ «“To-day, in the Europa. And happening . past heed this evening, I dropped in to kill time. Time is my implacable pul it, but I-never succeed.” oe “An! !”? said George, “you are a. trifle blase, I’m afraid; but _ never mind—the pure and innocent air of. balmy: New York _ will do away with all that, and restore your artistic fresh- ap And so you have made your mark in the artistic world ~ at last—knocked Guido and Raphael, and the rest of these ancient bricks, into a cocked hat? TIve read all about it— pyour wonderful Alpine storms and Venetian sunsets ; your Didos and Cordelias and Iphigenais and the rest of ’em. I with my Orestes, Alwyn Bartram.” 3 te _ The gentlemen bowed. George Waldron. ran on: - “Have you seen many of the old faces since you ieideds a ‘But of course you haven’t. Well, yeu couldn’t come to a _ better place than the Academy. I see hosts of old acquaint- ances of yours on every hand, and—by Jove! Alwyn, there is the oldest, the nearest, the dearest of the lot—the lovely i ‘Leonie ‘herself, your old adoration! Whilst we talk of the Qi ueen of the Night,’ she begins to shine. Yonder is the 3 beauty of the season, our French princess, Mademoiselle De jy M Bonen, “i ney did the same. But they were not singular. A fire of | lorg nettes was already turned in that direction. Alwyn. Bar- me lool ed and saw. — Ra ant ino jewels and brilliant silk, Leonie Rutherford / -—- 9 lan at last. The world travels in a groove nowadays, it sitting out the opera as Alwyn Bartram. And when did you - enemy, George. I have spent the past ten years in trying to Be - always thought it was in you, old fello . Permit me to con- sepa you! Here, De Launey, let me make you acquainted a 22, mon chee, that you SO wildly stare? The Marble tage 3 he man on your left, De Launey, sitting like a statue of — lt 2 raised his glass eagerly: Alwyn Barras and De Lau-# ae aman splendid in her rich, dark, insolent ‘i (E(0) A ae » gt sae Beers 518 re a ; a ‘ oe es . oo alt | GEomick 200 KS