Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

194 “Damages?” Alicia’s brow puckered swiftly. ‘“ But you are not really badly injured?” It was an expression of pure sympathy. “No,” he explained gravely. “ But I am afraid I shall be laid off from work for at least two or three weeks, and I thought you would rather see that the thing is made right privately than have the bother of— well, legal affairs.” “Of course!” said Alicia warmly. “How much do you think would be fair?” He gazed at Marion. “That,” he said, “I should like to talk over with you privately.” ‘* Privately?” “Well, it would naturally concern my— er —earning capacity; my income, you know—” She saw the delicacy of the situ- ation immediately. “Of course,” she said. “ Marion, dear, please let me talk with Mr. Drayton alone.” Again Marion bit her lip. She was genu- inely troubled. “But Alicia, you know, in the absence of your father, we are our only chaperones.” Alicia smiled. “T don’t think Mr. Drayton will abduct me,” she said. Marion could have shaken her—I mean she would have liked to. “But the accident, my dear. head was so badly injured.” “Marion!” Alicia deliberately turned her back upon her companion. ‘“ Perhaps you will walk in the garden with me, Mr. Drayton?” she suggested. He did not answer, but limping to the door, he opened it while she passed through, and followed her across the driveway to the lawn beyond. Marion frowned, when, looking after them, she noticed that as he walked at Alicia’s side, he totally forgot to limp. Then she went directly to the tele- phone and put in a call for Morley Averill in New York. His poor VI. One of the greatest beauties at North- over is the sunken garden. Its the usual thing in formal walks and hedges, with the usual fountain at the end, but an unusual touch is given by the profuse thickets of ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. blossoming shrubs which color the hedge rows and make bowers for the garden seats. On this particular afternoon an additional beauty was provided in the person of Alicia. The heavy handed son of toil looked upon her with appreciation as, clad in some light stuff of richest blue, her slim, graceful form led him to one of the most scented bowers in the garden. She sat with uncon- scious charm of gesture upon the seat, and gazed up at him expectantly. “Won't you sit down?” she suggested, » Then a cloud passed over her lovely face. “Oh, I’ve forgotten your poor leg!” she exclaimed. ‘I should never have let you walk so far!” He laughed. “Look!” he said; and without effort he leaped with the elastic spring of an athlete over the marble seat, the back of which was not a low one, and then, leaning over that back, he addressed her mirthfully. “Twenty-seven next birthday!” he laughed. ‘“ And sound in wind and limb.” “Then you were not serious—’” Her voice was perplexed. With a spring so easily executed that it seemed as little as the ordinary step of a brisk young man, he was over the bench once more, and sitting beside her. “Yes,” he said. “I was serious. I was seriously trying to get a word alone with you.” She turned upon him without offense, but complete mystification in her eyes. “{ don’t understand,” she said slowly. Immediately after he had spoken he had reproved himself. He expected her to be offended, reproachful, indignant. It moved him to see the perfect trust with which she voiced her perplexity. “The accident was nothing,” he said. “T have forgotten it, as far as any injury is concerned. Aside from that, it was all my fault. But ever since I came around after that bump on the head, and saw you there, gazing upon the injured laborer with such compassion, I have wanted to see you again.” She divined that there was something in his words that carried them beyond for- mality. “ That’s very kind of you,” she said. (C@ iMIELNOO© (C@