Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

or THE GHOST. said that her finger-nails had a natural lus- tre; and when she wore evening dress there was that curve which in our dreams we see running from finger-tips to shoulders and throat and chin; and there were her arms, impossible of description, for they were that péculiar rounded sort which are lithe with- out being sharp at the elbows. You felt the curves of her body through her clothes. Her hair was that accurate blue-black which has lustre without metallic gloss, and there were masses and masses of it, incredibly silky and fine. Her eyebrows were the rare, slim, unfaltering lines which could truly be called penciled; and the eyes be- neath them were a deep blue continually varying as the sky varies between evening and night.._ | Such was Valerie St. Vincent. When she came out of course Mrs. Gre- gory Sloan looked her over, carefully, for the whole evening. Mrs. Gregory Sloan never made mistakes, and therefore Valerie’s mother was on pins and needles until she heard the judgment. ‘‘ My dear,” said Mrs. Gregory Sloan, ‘Valerie will be a tremendous success. She belongs to the first class.” ‘“‘ And that?” asked Valerie’s mother. “Of course you know there are three classes,” smiled Mrs. Gregory Sloan. “‘ There are women who are woed, women who have been woed, and women who might have been woed. Valerie is like you, my dear!” At which Mrs. St. Vincent flushed in her own delightful way and disappeared into a crowd—of men. The rush to get Valerie, which began that night, lasted three seasons and was of his- toric density throughout. The first season she threw away a title; the second season ‘she laughed at a hundred millions; the third season— . Well, in the third season two men stood out above the crowd, and they were Lloyd Gandil Maury and George Swain Van Siebert 2nd. They both had enough money, family, and all that sort of thing, though there had been others far better equipped in all respects than these two; but by this time it was apparent that Valerie was out for a man, not for the 8 A - 401 trimmings which may surround aman. As the vulgar phrased it, Valerie was not hunt- ing for a letterhead. So in the third season these two splendid fellows were running neck and neck, and even Valerie could not help but show her partiality toward them. Toward the spring she went up into the mountains, and every one said: ‘“‘ When whe comes down she'll have made up her mind.” They were perfectly right. When she came down from the mountains she had made up her mind; she was married; and she was married to John Smith. People naturally gasped at first, but so- ciety is much more tolerant than we are told in the Sunday papers, and now society said nothing, but sat down to await develop- ments. By a little rumaging about in the past it learned that John Smith was worth a few millions in Western copper stocks and it also learned that he had been a football- player in college. That was promising. Here was the young Lochinvar come out of the West with big hands and a square jaw and eyes of fire—a self-made millionaire, a hero of many a battle on the gridiron, a man who did things and who would sweep Valerie along to Rockfellerian heights. So society stepped out and met John Smith half-way. It smiled upon him cordially, it took him by the arm, it drew him aside, it opened the fifty-year-old Burgundy and drank to his eyes and waited for him to But John Smith did not speak. He smiled in a rather vague way. Some men are “strongly silent ”; but John Smith was merely ‘“ expectantly hushed.” Society shook its head, but still it refused to be dis- illusionized. Was it not looking upon the man who had married Valerie Eloise St. Vincent? It examined John Smith more in His hands, to be sure, were large, and sd were his shoulders, but several layers of fat had gathered over his muscles since his college days, and while his chin was square enough it showed terrible tendencies toward doubling itself. Neither were his jests stale, when he told them, nor was his voice over- whelming; nor was he painfully self-con- scious; nor did he wreck his dancing-part- . ners; nor did he light cigars with bills of rigina | fre KON (C | SS CO THE OF lo STATE UN