Adventure Magazine Cover — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

54 along with it even as it goes blundering into folly. No doubt she was a little surprized that in the taxi he continued to treat her re- spectfully. She was not used to having men sit so far away. Ordinarily only chumps did that. Nobody can pick a man’s pocket if he stays three feet away. And perhaps she did not try to lead him on then; or it may have been that he was blind to her little hints. He respected her. This attitude was unique to her. It may be that she almost liked him for it. He talked with a nervous, boyish effort to be agreeable. She eyed him with a sort of warm, soft smile, set mask-like, while her thoughts were busy with other things. Picking the pocket was not her regular means of livelihood, largely because she lacked the elusive deftness of a true gon- moll. The circumstances had to be favor- able, like those offered by a close embrace and a jolty road. When the taxi stopped before an expres- sionless brick-faced apartment-house, she asked softly with an alert little conspirator air if he wouldn’t like to come up a minute and have a drink. “Drink” has become a magic word. People who care nothing about booze now perk up and smack their lips if offered a hooker of tea-colored dynamite. Prohi- bitionists go around sadly wondering what is the matter with human nature. _ Jack cared about as much for whisky as he did for turpentine flavored with cayenne; but what he did care about was the invita- tion, so he looked silly and eager. He told the taxi to wait; but the taxi was a cynic and wanted to know “What for?” So Jack paid for an hour in advance, and as the taxi could see he had not taken its number it rolled off as soon as he was out of sight. Nobody but a very young idiot would ever let himself be led around at midnight into a strange apartment by a strange lady with- out growing suspicious of her kindness; but fools rush in where devils walk on tiptoes. Jack was a little agitated by the adventure, and rapidly growing more and more affected by what beauty the girl had. The apartment was warm and cozy, about as big as a couple of bandboxes sewed to- gether. The furniture was of the highly. varnished kind, spindle-legged chairs with Adventure plush backs. A young countryman like Jack would get the impression of wealth; but six months of city life would have made him think the apartment gaudily shabby. Value is always a matter of perspective; a starving man feasts on crusts, and Jack felt that something exceptionally fortunate in the way of romance had fallen to him. She had him give up his damp top-coat and hat. She was hospitable and cheerful. She removed her cloak and hat, peered in a mirror and impudently powdered her nose before his face. He liked it. Her hair was short, bobbed, blondined. Her skirts were short, which gave her em- phatically a school-girl appearance; and there was no age in her face—at least none apparent to his eyes. Her voice was sweet, honeyed. It made him want to squeeze her, but he didn’t. He was afraid shesmight not lke it, and he did not want to offend her. She swept a collection of ornamental knick-knacks from the table and brought out a lunch cloth with a lot of yellow birds on it. Then she brought cheese, salami, rye bread, dill pickles and stuffed olives out for a sandwich. He was eager and helpful. She opened the doors of a little cabinet and dragged forth John Barleycorn by the neck and put him on a little tray with two small glasses. She motioned toward the cabinet, which was well stocked with bottles. “Tt got a friend on the prohib payroll. Pinches booze. Confiscates it, you know. Pours part of it in the gutter. Keeps the rest. He’s a-good judge o’ whisky.” Somehow Jack did not like the idea of her having any other friends in the world than himself. He rather resented that vague prohibition official; but he couldn’t speak of it just then. He let her fill his glass because he wanted to do the manly thing and take a full-sized drink; and she fen, exactly how he felt. She was half-amused and really liked him. He was so young and eager, also rather handsome. For herself she scarcely covered the bot- tom of the glass. She was wise in the evil of the world, and knew that whisky and women do not mix well. It pleased her to see how easily she could make a fool of the boy. She said, “Excuse me a min’te,” and tripped out with a mysterious air as if to bring a surprize. COmiclbook ©