Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

298 ‘‘ Well—all’s well that ends well,” Mar- vin said. “ Only, if you do decide to frame it, I’d advise you to screw it fast to your wall.” Then it was all over and Eddie and Portia found themselves once more outside the grim gray stone building. Only now Murgson and Irak and Welter were no longer on their trail. They were sure of it as they set out side by side to find a taxicab. In fact, they were sure that they simply walked alone, under a sky now clouded by- fog curling in from the bay, against which the lights of the city threw their ruddy glare. They walked alone, just a man and a woman who had been strangely thrown to- gether—so strangely thrown together that inside the span of some half dozen hours they had gone through acquaintanceship, mutual! understanding, unexpected hardship, and if only as it now appeared in seeming, peril of bodily integrity and life. It was all very strange, and already looking back on it, Eddie found himself once more com- paring it to the figments of a vivid dream. Only—out of that dream had come the girl beside him—vibrant with young life, THE Le} ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, trim and slender, a creature of dreams, with her brown hair and her steady violet eyes. He cleared his throat of a strange huski- ness as he steadied her over a crossing. ‘“‘ Mildred—Portia,” he stammered. ‘“ I— you—remember what I said, back there in that room, after we heard—that shot? I— you—you believe it—don’t you—Portia?” She paused and turned toward him. There wasn’t a soul around—not even a belated roisterer in all the stretch of de- serted pavement. She lifted her eyes and her voice came softly: “ Yes—Eddie—I believe it.” “ Of course,”” Harmon said, “‘ I’m a stran- ger—” Swiftly Mildred’s hand flashed up and lay against his lips. She laughed—a little gurgle of tender amusement in her rounded throat. “ Wait—boy,” she checked him. ‘“ Don’t say it. You aren’t a stranger here any longer. You’re—you’re—pretty well known.” Eddie caught her hand and held it. was a wonderful night. * All right,” he said. ‘“ Then suppose we turn my vacation into a honeymoon?” It END Uv U WEALTH a is a clump of silver oak,” Said he. ““ No—it’s the Forest of Arden!” Breathed she. “ That is a squatter’s cabin— Shiftless folk—’” And dimples glimmered “The witch!” As she spoke. He shrugged. How can you “You waste time dreaming! Expect to make your fortune While you do?” She sighed—‘ Is poverty as poor As it seems? Are you more rich, with leaden facts, Than I—with golden dreams?” Theda Kenyon. COmmicloool< (C@