Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

THE WHISPERER. while Browning has a great deal to say, but was never able to utter a single sus- tained rhythm. Now, in your remark of a moment ago you were trying to make a hit at my comment about audiences. Yow missed my point. One talks with a com- panion; one talks aé an audience.” ‘You are certainly very clear,” said the girl. 7 “ Tnsultingly so?” “You could never insult me.” “Only weary you, I suppose. now?” ‘I’m intensely interested... Because you pay some attention to the subject which most fascinates me—myself.”’ The eyes of Goggles flashed with enjoy- ment. “ That’s bully,” he chuckled. “ Simply bully! You are interesting, but not in the way men have told you.” . “Qh!” said Patricia. He was like a dissector, cutting toward the heart of her being, naming each muscle as he passed it. “You have,” said the merciless critic, “the three most important qualities for a woman, their importance ranking in the order named: a sound body—apparently— a beautiful face, and a receptive mind. You have also, in the order named, the three greatest vices of modern woman: ambition, discontent, and respect for your mind. You are interesting through the clash of quali- ties.” “ And you are under the impression that I will become—”’ “ Either a virtuous wife and the discon- tented mother of many children, or the mis- tress of a great man, and the discontented mother of barren thoughts.” She sank further back in her chair, re- garding him with awe and aversion. It seemed to Patricia that the book of her future was being read with infallible wis- dom. “Which had you rather be?” smiled Goggles. ‘“‘T had rather die than be either!”’ cried Patricia. “Ah!” said the little man, and raised a forefinger. ‘ Then there is hope for you!” And 451 And after that she could not get another word from him. a a CHAPTER VIII. A MESSAGE FROM THE NIGHT. | DDLY enough that interview in- creased her respect for the Whisperer rather than for St. Gore. She saw another reason now why the outlaw should cling to this dapper little fop and extend over him the dark cloak of his protection. It was because the ‘outlaw had been a man of culture and had been ostracized from the paths of civilized men. All that he saved from the wreckage was the friendship and occasional meetings with this St. Gore, this | absurd little dude with his cold, keen mind. If she did not utterly despise St. Gore now, She looked upon him as men look upon some ingenious mechanism which does the work of a man—and yet is not aman. She felt almost as mnperson ally as this about St. Gore. Apparently he had the most complete trust in the protection of the Whisperer. For instance, when he sat opposite the four gun-fighters at the table that night, he looked at them rather with curiosity than with fear, and studied them with such an intent look that Patricia wished for the tenth time that he would lay aside those absurd, owl-like spectacles. Indeed, it was the spectacles which gave most of the folly to the face of Goggles. Without them it would have been an inter- esting, intellectually handsome face. With them, it became a mere mask of inanity. However, she had known men like this before, men with minds, but no bodies— men dead below the brain. A typical pro- duct of one phase of the twentieth cen- tury. The gun-fighters regarded Goggles with a curiosity fully equal to his own and much more openly expressed. They were like four great hunting-dogs surrounding the weak, defenseless cub of the bear, but daring not touch it for fear of the terrible coming of the dam. They measured Goggles across his broad forehead and his narrow cheeks—they measured him across his slen- COLMUC OOOLK (CO