Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

84 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. He was smiling as he reached the foot of the broad staircase. He was thinking that the world at large knew very little about the real Roderick Randall. The stairs to the balcony, like every other part of the dance hall, were crowded, and, as he slowly made his way up them, he kept his eye on the landing above. It was just as he reached it that a slender girl in a Pierrette costume appeared and paused for a moment. She was twirling a red rose in the white fingers of her left hand, and, seeing this, Rod approached her. “Are you alone?” he asked, with a little smile. meas | was," ” she replied, “ but now I no longer am.’ Her voice trembled, and ioomad a little rough, but this he attributed to her nerv- ousness or to the impassive mask which en- tirely concealed her face. He knew that she was the girl with whom he had made an appointment, because the rose, and even the romantic little passwords, had been agreed upon before. : “ Come,” he said, ‘‘ we will sit down and get acquainted with each other.” She took his arm, and he sensed her agi- tation as he led her to a secluded part of the balcony. : “T never expected you to come,” she began, when they were seated. “TI really thought that you were e just playing with me.’ “ To disappoint a person never would be my idea of play,” he told her reprovingly. “No, I guess not,” she conceded. “ But it’s often done just the same.” There was a little note of bitterness in her voice, and, for a moment, there was si- lence between them. As they sat there, Rod tried to determine, from their brief contact, what sort of a girl his companion was. “ She’s not a brainless flapper, anyway,’ he thought, “ or she would be gushing all over me.” Then he turned to her. “Tell me,” he said, “ why you are so careful to keep your face hidden from me. I am wearing only a domino, and, it seems me ee are Bia a mk 6 set. of ak : noes.”” He paused a moment. “I seem to trust you more than you trust me.” “Oh, it’s not that,” she replied, impul- sively clutching his arm. “It’s not that at all. Just please don’t ask me—please don’t spoil it all.” “Of course I won't,’ he assured her. “—T wouldn’t spoil anything for anybody. We won’t say another word about your mask. Just you have a good time any way you want to. .Suppose we dance?” ‘* Yes,” she agreed, ‘ let’s dance.” They made their way down to the floor and passed through the gate, where he left two tickets he had torn from the long strip he had bought. It was a jazz fox trot that the band was playing, a rhythmic and sen- suous number, and the girl was swaying to the lilt of it even before Rod took her into his arms, Among his many other talents, Roderick Randall had the gift of dancing. Music seemed to take possession of him, and his response to it was unconscious, unerring. The dance was a passion with him, but ii was seldom that he enjoyed it, because it was seldom that he found a girl whose skill and grace approached his own. But the moment they moved out on the floor, he knew that his partner was no neophyte. Their bodies seemed to flow and undulate together, responding in per- fect unison to the music. Not a word was uttered between ier until the number, with a resounding crash ° of brass, suddenly ceased. Even then they stood for a moment as if entranced, so completely had they abandoned themselves to the dance. Then the girl. laughed a bit nervously and took his arm. “Come,” she said, “ on the floor.” He breathed rather deeply and looked at her with wonder in his eyes. “That was superb,” he murmured. “ It was marvelous! You must dance a great deal.” “No,” she told him, we're almost alone “JT hardly ever dance, but when I do, it’s always the same. I love it so,” she added passionately, “‘ that I hardly know where : am when Tm Pearnicbooken com