Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

182 ok 1. “ Well—ah—I am Mrs. Ronalds, of course. I am Neville’s mother and—and won't you sit down?” that lady said lamely. Her brain, it may be admitted, was in a whirl. Her whole attack seemed to have crumbled; for no one, of whatever degree of intelligence, could gaze upon Cynthia without sensing that she was absolutely everything that the- nicest possible girl could have been! In a way, this was really too bad; Mrs. Ronalds had known exactly what she meant to say, in the way of an opening. It had been her intent to drop her book, to rise hastily, to glance quickly up and down the visitor and then, permitting loathing to appear in her eyes, to say in a low, vibrant tone: “So you—you are the creature who has ensnared my boy?” And after that she had meant to laugh, pitching the laugh to a high, derisive key and filling it with that utter contempt which must indicate the ab- sence of all fear, and to add wonderingly: *“Oh, but it’s not possible! You’re not really the Blair woman about whom we’ve been so concerned?” And then she had meant to laugh again. Instead, Cornelia was merely sitting weakly on the edge of a chair, with her hands clasped and her lips still parted, gaz- ing in a benumbed way at Cynthia, who sat back quite comfortably in another chair, a very sweet and wholesome and entirely self-possessed youn woman. “Won't you—er—take off your coat?” murmured the outraged mother. “ It’s rather warm in here.” “Tt is, isn’t it? Yes, I will for a min- ute,” responded Cynthia, and nimbly di- vested herself of the garment and, in her cheery, modern way flicked off the little hat as well and patted down her hair. Also, she noted by the small clock on Mrs. Ronalds’s desk that the hour still lacked twelve minutes of seven o’clock and salvation. It might be well to make the queer little conversation as protracted and roundabout as possible. “Tt is—er—rather chilly out to-night, isn’t it?” was Cornelia’s next murderous javelin. ‘“ Rather, although—TI don’t know,” Miss ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Blair dimpled charmingly. “ It isn’t nearly as chilly as some of the nights last week.” “No. Last week was decidedly unpleas- ant,” Mrs. Ronalds agreed, profoundly. “But the week before!” exclaimed Cynthia. “Oh, the week before was perfectly beastly!” Neville’s mother said. This seemed to exhaust that particular topic, unless she chose to work back to the previous summer and even to seasons before that. Cynthia glanced about—and found that she had no farther to glance than the little stand beside her, for: “Oh, what a darling vase!” she cried. “That one?” murmured Mrs. Ronalds. “Oh, may I examine it?” “* Er—of course.” “Because I do adore old china!” Cyn- thia breathed raptly, and approached the vase with reverent fingers. “That is—is quite old, I believe,” Mrs. Ronalds nodded. “Why, it’s a genuine Ming piece, isn’t it?” “T think so. I’ve never really been much interested in such things,” Neville’s mother confessed, and cleared her throat. “ My husband collected a little.” “ But this is exquisite—exquisite!’’ Cyn- thia murmured. Two full minutes she devoted to a more careful inspection. During this period, Mrs. Ronalds sat in the same position, gaz- ing blankly at Cynthia. She was wholly baffled. From the instant that Towner had announced Miss Blair’s arrival, she had known that a designing woman was about to descend upon her and that, virtue or no virtue, it was going to be nip and tuck as to which of them came out on top in the strug- gle. But if this pretty creature was a de- Signing woman, her true character was masked so perfectly that—that—well, really, what did one do in a situation of this kind? For her own part, Cynthia went on ex- amining the vase and regretting the thoughtless Fate that had failed to render Mrs. Ronalds a Ming enthusiast. Cynthia knew four separate disputed points about that dynasty, each of them good for a live- ly, time-consuming discussion. However, EOPMIG OOO KS (E@)