Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

166 really liked you until to-day when I[ saw how you were tackling a job that most men would think beneath them.” “ And all for no good purpose except to bring joy to a yeggman’s family.” “You were always so glib in the of- fice, so self-satisfied, so cocky, and I didn’t see any reason why you should be so puffed up. You weren’t doing so darn well. ‘That’s why I used to razz you.” “You used to give mea pain.” he assured her. “I figured out that you knew what I was getting and you wouldn’t be bothered being friends with a sixty-dollar-a-week man.” , “You saw how Randolph Milligan retreated when he found out the sort of business you were in,” she smiled. “I supposed you were that sort of fel- low, too. It took courage, didn’t it, Les, to set up in business in Lower Broadway where people you knew might see you. How did you ever come to do it?” Lester expanded in the light of her admiration. “I listened in on the radio the other night to a swell-headed old ape I used to work for who was tell- ing young men how to succeed. “Tt was a lot of apple sauce except for one thing. He said that the big millionaires almost invariably came from the lower classes, very seldom from families that were shabby genteel, and the reason was that, as boys, they had no false shame. . “That hit me and [ saw what was the matter with me. I was a college man and my folks were nice people; so I couldn’t begin at the bottom of the ladder. I wanted to start about halfway up.” _Nora’s eyes sparkled with interest. “'That’s true, Les,’ she exclaimed. *“‘Tt’s just as true of me as it is of you. My folks came from Ireland a couple of generations ago and didn’t hesitate to take any kind of work they could get but my father was a clerk and of course his daughter had to get into from. “started as a waiter and married into ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. some polite occupation; so [ pound the typewriter for an old crook and help him deceive people into buying worth- less land, instead of earning money honestly and living luxuriously as a parlor maid for some rich family.” “Well—” he ejaculated with an amused look in his eye. “Not on your life. I couldn’t be a menial if they paid three times what they do, but you’re different; you’re not a servant but a business man.” “Yet socially. I’m taboo.” “Nonsense. If a man has money, no woman worries much where it came Look at that song writer who the best New York society.” “Not exactly received with open arms,” he objected. “Oh, they’ll accept him. Give them time.” : “ Who is this Milligan person? How did you run across him?” Lester asked. “Oh, I’ve known Randolph a long time. He wants to marry me.” “Don’t you do it,” he advised ear- nestly. “ He carries his handkerchief in his cuff.” “Oh, Ranny isn’t bad. He would be neat to have around the house. It was a shock to him to find I was en- tertaining a hot dog man and he didn’t take it well, but I like him and he was going to take me to a movie.” Lester rose at the hint. ‘ Come on,” he invited. “Anything in particular you want to see?” “Gloria Swanson has a new picture at the Colonial. I wouldn’t drag you away down town and then up again.” _ Ina few minutes they left the apart- ment and joined the throng which was moving into the lobby of a big neigh- borhood picture palace, where for awhile Les forgot his troubles, little reckoning that fate was holding in store for him experiences beside which the holdup of that evening would seem like an incident of small importance. TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK (E) _OOK COL