Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

SKID SMITH, SCHEME SPECIALIST. less life, and the grossness of human nature there crops forth. There is some hope for the man who will leave it. liked red hair. Is Bert a very old friend? Jim has lived here a good while, hasn’t he? Do you swim? I lived in Cleveland when I was a4 boy. You have wonderful blue eyes, haven’t you?” Ann smiled at this point, and Skid Smith sank without a murmur. He entered a momentary tussle with his conscience and succeeded so well in whipping it to a stand- still that when Mae and her two victims returned from the island, he actually smiled at her and glared malevolently at Bert and Jim: He was going to save Ann, not only from Bert, but from his old friend Jim as well; and in pursuance of this al- teration in his plans he led Mae down to the boat-house for an added injunction. “Tm pleased to discover that you have lost none of your old-time form,” he told her, “ but I’ve changed my mind about one thing. If you will enlarge your activities to earnestly- include Jim, I'll] make you a present of a new pair of shoes, with Louis heels; some silk stockings, and two georg- ette blouses, to say nothing of a small gold wrist-watch. You are a right smart. young woman, Mae, but I doubt Your abil- ity to sidetrack Jim. If you marry him it will be all right with me. Did you bring a bathing suit? That’s fine! Knowing you as I do, I have no doubt it will look well by moonlight. Don’t you think Bert and Jim would love to bathe from the pier about ten to-night? I wonder if Miss Temple would enjoy seeing you cavort with them in the water. She’s an old- fashioned girl after all, thank the Lord. Perhaps she’s:too much for you. Are you going to play summer stock?” “Yes, yes! I wonder! No, I hardly think so,” smiled Mae. ‘ You never yet had money enough to buy the collar of a V-cut georgette blouse.” Skid’s grin was expansive as he reached into a hip-pocket and drew forth the equiv- alent of one car-load of cold-storage eggs, and Mae fell against the side of the boat- house. When she recovered she gave Skid a detailed account of her taste in wearing- apparel, and went back to the cottage. I have always: 633 Skid sank down in the sand and gave himself over to pleasant fancies. Friend- ship was one thing, but Ann Temple was another; and no man, Jim Baker or other- wise, deserved Ann unless he could win her. Skid’s name was not John Alden, and his- tory was not going to repeat itself in this instance. Ann’s innate refinement and faith in mankind were about to receive a stupen- dous shock, if Skid knew anything, and Ann could be made to turn to him as a = man above such weakness. Then he would marry her and open a delicatessen in Lom-_ bard, and would even go so far as to buy his shoes of Jim Baker. Mama Temple was a problem to be solved in due time, and there was a faint possibility that she might yet fall into the deep, green waters of the lake. As for Mae and Bert—poof! And as for Jim Baker— was he double-crossing Jim any more than Jim was double-crossing both Ann and Bert? After which Skid returned to the cot- tage, grinned good naturedly at every one, and dared Ann to take a boat ride with him. And Ann, piqued to the extreme limit of human endurance by the crass ex+ hibition of masculine weakness, as depicted by both Bert and the heretofore supposed- ly slow-gaited Mr. Baker, smiled at Skid and assisted him to the boat-house. | “Isn't it a lovely day?” asked Skid as they pulled from the shore. “ How is it that you are constructed as other women and yet look so different? Two weeks from to-day I am going to ask you to marry me.”’ “Oh! But you mustn’t!” gasped Ann. “ [—why, I’m—”’ ‘“‘T know,” grinned Skid, “ but you won’t be by then. Have you ever spent a honeymoon in Kansas City? Personally, I like a William and Mary dining-room suite, but it doesn’t make a great deal of difference. How old is your mother?” Two or three times Ann tried to step on his ambitions, but to no avail; and finally she merely smiled at his easy flow of En- glish, than which she could have done nothing more deadly. The mere detail of marriage was all that intervened, and CONMUC NOOO S CO