Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

524 “You're going to go right on,” he panted, “living all alone like this until—until—”’ She nodded briskly. “It seems hard for you to swallow that I don’t want and don’t need any one to lean on for mental or any other kind of en- tertainment, but it’s so. Can you tell me as many of the things I want to know, for example, as Voltaire and Kipling and Em- erson and Carlyle?” “ We might read together,” he suggested. “‘ But we won’t,” said Georgia. “Some day,” growled Teddy Armbister, “vou're going to need me—you’re going to have to have me!” She looked down at him with dancing eyes. “Tl let you know,” “when that day comes.’ she said brightly, X. Ir was as if Georgia Michigan Wood- stock, seated wearily on her mule, was the last of a long procession. There had been, he reflected, so many of them; tall ones and short ones, blond ones and brunette ones; girls with brown eyes and blue eyes and green eyes and golden eyes; girls who were serious and demure, girls who sparkled like champagne; girls who flirted and girls who didn’t. So many of them had there been that Teddy could not, if he tried, re- member all of their names. They had all been, he was very sure now, so many birds of passage; they had been as transitory as so many hothouse roses— not even a memory of their fragrance re- mained. They were phantoms, wisps of the easily forgotten past. Georgia Michigan Woodstock was real; she was vital—and ab- solutely essential to him. * Without her, he was certain, he would suffer as few men had ever suffered. He was fired with adoration for her. Never had there been such a girl as Georgia Michigan Woodstock! So beautiful! So clever! So brave! So wholly desirable! Tt had been thoughtful of her to pause long enough to give him something more than a glimpse of the girl inside. “But it only made him the more - determined to pos- sess her. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. No girl alive had ever treated Teddy Armbister so shabbily. As far back as he could remember, they had been grateful for his slightest consideration. They had quar- reled over him. They had pursued and hounded him. Georgia Woodstock alone had treated him disdainfully. He loved her and his egotism would per- mit him to accept no reason why she shouldn’t permit him to tell her so at great length and at every opportunity. What was life for, anyhow? She’ was, he presently concluded, all wrong. It was wrong to bottle yourself up; not to give any of yourself to anybody. The world—Teddy argued passionately to himself—was organized on the basis of people communing; sharing each other’s troubles and happiness; people loving and doing things for each other. No man or woman had ever been born so complete that he or she could ignore the world. Teddy wished he had thought of telling her some of these things. They struck him as being pretty good. She hadn’t, he had gathered, so far need- ed anybody. That meant that she had had, all of her life, lucky breaks, when you looked at it that way. No crisis had so far arisen that she had been unable to surmount unhelped. But one of these days, by the very law of aver- ages, a crisis must arise that she could not meet alone. And Teddy Armbister was going to be on hand when it happened. Forbidden to see her, he took the sensible alternative of expressing his passion in terms of work. He fell into the habit of getting up at dawn, of driving himself all day long, and studying horticulture until, as frequent- ly happened, he would fall asleep in his chair. He grew thin, and he did a great deal of brooding. He had never been in love before—every hour of every passing day he realized this more keenly. And he’d never love again. This deep and noble sentiment that he entertained for Georgia Michigan Wood- stock was ultimate—a love affair engineered in heaven. It was no longer a matter of wounded pride with ‘Teddy. It was as if he Eomichbooks (elo)