Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

o2 Albert, in his shirt sleeves and vest, strolled into the kitchen with a tabloid newspaper under one arm. He sat on the white chair beside the cupboard, and settled himself to read and wait for supper to be served. “Can’t read in the subway at all,” he complained. “ Darned crowd.” “ You never complained of that be- fore,” she remarked. He mumbled something and went on reading. Presently she called him to the bountiful spread of lima beans, chopped beef and soppy potatoes. “Suppose you had to work over- time?” she probed, as they sat down. He had been leaning forward, sur- veying the meal with an eye that was not too appreciative. Now he looked up, as if a bit startled. “ Oh, why, no,” he answered doubt- fully. ‘‘ No, I didn’t work overtime. Say, Vi,” he changed the subject, “ where'd you find that album?” “Where'd you see it?” she coun- tered, on her guard at once. “On the couch, under the pillow.” ee Oh r She poured his coffee, and the thought flashed through her mind that, dressed to-night in a pink art smock that had become frowzy through con- tinued use as a house dress, she did not look as snappy as that vamp in the album. Was Albert thinking of that, too? : “Tt was in the desk,” she said. “I was looking at it.” “ Oh, yeah?” She scooped three spoonfuls of lima beans onto his plate, and glanced covertly at his face. “Tf you hadn’t come home so late, we would have gone to the pictures to- night,” she observed irrelevantly. “I suppose you stayed late to kid around in the office.” “No, honest. We haven’t any girls in our office—not right in my room, at least—” “Who's talking about girls?” -she caught him up. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Well, you said ‘kid around.’ ” “You don’t always have to kid around with girls, do you? You’re no bargain for kidding around with girls, anyway.” Albert swallowed some more coffee and gulped: “What you drivin’ at? What’s got into you to-night?” “Nothing’s got into me, Albert. What’s got into you, may I ask?” “Me? Holy smoke, nothin’.” He looked injured. “Well, who’s that girl in your al- bum, then?” She was going to get this over with right now. His eyes opened inquiringly. “ Girl?” he asked wonderingly. “I don’t know any girl in my album. What’s the big idea?” “Oh, you know, all right. It’s been put in there recently.” ; He shook his head and reached for another meat ball. “You're cuckoo. I don’t know what has got into you.” His casual manner was maddening. “My head’s too busy with things you don’t understand, Vi,” he added. “T haven’t got time to think about that stuff. Like I was saying to George—” “George? Who’s George?” “You heard me speak of George lots of times. George Archer. He’s one of the men at the office.” Viola felt that she was getting at the bottom of things now. She had the in- tuitive sense that this George was the key to this curious barrier between her and Albert to-night. There was something portentous in the mention of the name, although she could not remember having heard it before. “He lives near here,’ Albert was saying between mouthfuls. “I meet him coming home in the train—we met to-night. Lots of times we come home together. ‘That’s nothin’, is it?” That didn’t explain matters. As Viola rose from the table, some min- utes later, and went slowly into the Gomichbooks (eC)