Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

POKER eyes narrowed to savage little slits and something rumbled terrifically within him. For over there, her grip beside her on the floor, stood Betty Whitmore, quite alone! She did not seem the gay, abandoned person, either. She was looking around with quick, darting little glances; her foot was tapping; even at the distance James sensed that her lids were moving rapidly, as Betty’s lids did when their owner was disturbed. Yes, they were doing just that, as James was now able to observe, the dis- tance between them having been decreased by half. And little Betty had seen her hus- band, too, and her eyes were opening wide- ly, not at all in terror, but in what certainly looked like joyful relief. This, too, James noted. And having con- sidered his mental state at some length, you will deduce at once that, even in that pub- lic place, James was about to fall upon his knees before little Betty; that he was about to crave her forgiveness and swear to be a better man forever after; that, in fine, the very prettiest little reconciliation was about to occur, with whatever consequences to the Curlew affair itself. And you will deduce wrongly. There is no controverting the fact that at first bound toward his wife James’s heart throbbed gratefully; but, having finished the last ten feet of his progress with a really remark- able slide, he drew breath and with rarest tact demanded: ‘Elizabeth, what—what the devil do you mean by it?” Betty winced sharply, amazedly. Her eyes, meeting those of James, lost all their glad light and turned a numbed, angry cold. In a twinkling, too, James’s poker face was once more on duty, which seemed still further to harden Betty’s gaze and to feed the chilly flame of her eye. Her lips tightened as she inquired: “Are you speaking to me, Mr. Whit- more?” “Huh? I’m speaking to you, all right! And don’t—” “Then don’t speak in just that way, please! I’m not accustomed to that sort of thing, from an employer or from any one else.”’ : FACES, 79 ‘Betty, I want you to drop all that rot now—d’ye hear? A joke’s a joke, but this thing’s gone a long way beyond a joke. What do you mean by coming here with that fathead?” “Mean, Mr. Whitmore?” Betty echoed and drew back indignantly. ‘“ I—I—why, I hardly know what to say. Why should I explain to you, please? I am an employee of your partner’s, and he directed me to come here. Is that sufficient?” James swallowed twice... “Say, Betty, do you want me to lose all control of myself and begin damning things up hill and down dale?” he demanded, with difficulty. ‘““Mr. Whitmore, do you see the police officer standing there by the door?” Betty asked, very evenly. “ What?” “Tf you feel called upon to direct any more filthy language at me, I shall scream for him! Yes, I mean it. If you are the antiquated type that feels a girl to be open to insult because she’s working for a liv- ing, you need a lesson, and you shall have it! Well, Mr. Whitmore?” “ Betty, for the love of Mike, will you can all that stuff and come down to earth?” James demanded desperately, and, of course, with disgusting coarseness. ‘‘ What’s the matter with you? Have you gone in- sane? Don’t you understand that you’re compromising yourself horribly, acting like this? Suppose any one who knew us saw you trailing around with that elephant at this hour?” Betty, consumed with prettiest bewilder- ment, held up her hands as if to fend off a maniac. _ “ But—but you speak as if you had some claim on me, Mr. Whitmore!” she cried. “As if I were your—your sister or your wife!” “You bet your sweet life that you’re my wife, and the time to remember it is now!” “Oh, but I’m not, [ assure you! Why, you’d never recognize any one as your wife who—” James relaxed with a grunt that did hold some humility. “JY know, Betsy—I know,” he said. ““T’m an idiot, and I suppose it’s all right Gomicbooks (S@) S|