Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

A CROWN ‘ Betty,” whispered Peter tenderly, lov- ingly, despairingly, “ that can never happen again.” I was so distraught that I laughed aloud, almost in hysteria. I thought of myself, in my own ballroom, forbidding Raoul’s orchestra to play the “ Nuit Noire ” waltz. I thought of the king’s cold look of distaste as he agreed with me that it was over- done. “Betty, it’s too much for you,” Peter whispered. ‘‘ Come out of this stuffy room. We'll go and sit by the sea.” We went out of the ballroom. I had no notion of the time, but knew it must be getting late. I had made up my mind not to stay long after midnight. As we walked across the big vestibule, the air coming from outside struck chill. The king told me to go and get my cloak, and I obeyed him. He waited for me, and we went cut ‘onto the great terrace of the restaurant, where crowds were sitting. It was not real- ly cold, and dancing never overheated me, as it does some people. An orange moon hung low over the sea. The air was full of the faint fragrance of the oleanders that stood about in tubs. Peter found a table in a corner, shaded by plants, with the marble parapet of the terrace on one side. He sat with his back to the crowd, very close to me, and he took my hands and bent and covered them with kisses. My heart stood still. hands away. “Don’t! Don’t! Let me,’ he whispered. “T’ve been starving for this!” So as not to betray myself I had to be willfully artificial. “But you mustn’t!” Isaid. “ I—TI have no place in your life.” “You have the only place in my life!” he retorted. : It sounded like a groan. I tried to take my “No, no. You are engaged to a great lady.” “A great lady—vyes!” He gave a bitter laugh. With what a mixture of misery and joy I heard it! ‘“ But you are engaged to her. going to marry her,”’ I persisted. You are FOR SALE. eee gh) ‘““T can only think of you, my Betty.” “And I must think of her. Is she not a great lady?” “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. His voice was testy now. ‘ But don’t talk about her. Betty, her life is laid in an altogether differ- ent sphere—”’ ‘““ From mine?” I interrupted. “Yes, of course. Her world is a dif- ferent one. It is my world. She could never come to a place like this and enjoy herself. Men can do it, but women can’t. She is always just what she is.” “Is she not nice?” “Of course she 1s nice—awiully nice. She will never do anything wrong. She will be always correct and in the picture. But, as far as I am concerned, she might be made—of wood. Oh, Betty, it is wrong of me to say that! Your sweet eyes tell me it is wrong. She is everything she ought to-be. And she will be a queen. ‘Betty, don’t you see, she is not the woman for me? She might be an angel, but she isn’t the woman for me. She is heavy and awkward and she has too much money, and she can’t dance! Oh, but that’s wrong of me again! I am taking her money, Bet- ty. Think—what degradation! What will you think of menow? Iam selling myself; I have to. ugly reasons. I think throughout history they have had to. . Is it any wonder that it is the women kings have loved ‘ on the side ’ who have left their stamp in the world?” I sat silent; all the inner fiery hopeless- ness was eating me up. ‘“ But, Betty,” he went on, and his voice was like a warm and healing breath, ‘‘ you are not a girl any man could love ‘ on the side.’ It couldn’t be done. You are every- thing or nothing. If only I wasn’t a king, Betty! I would be any other man if I could—one of these musicians here—and I could marry you, and we would have a little home. Think of it, Betty! Our little home! ”’ My heart sang. How I wanted to burst out with the truth! But I couldn’t. There was something that could not be overcome. He spoke of Elizabeth Cleveland as belong- ing to his world. She was what he expected her to be—his queen. He asked nothing ‘- COnniclooks.e@ Kings have to marry for such .