Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

FLIGHT TO ‘They get on because they pay the price ——those successful women,”’ mused Cynthia wrathfully. ‘‘ And I don’t get on—because I’m straight; in spite of the fact that I’ve got it over lots of them like a roof.” Harrison appeared in the bedroom door with a bantering smile on his face and with a cocktail shaker in his hands. The rattle of the thing was, under his manipulation, like the invocation of some barbaric rite. ‘JT can read your thoughts, little Bright- Eyes,” he declared with a mocking solemnity. ‘‘ Beauty and virtue in dis- tress, Pining for the empire of success where others are crowned while you look on unsatisfied.” He came over and, setting down the mixer on his table, went back for glasses. From her hand bag the girl extracted a small silver case and lighted a cigarette. She watched the man from under sullenly drooping lids, but her only response was a low and hostile: “Rave on. You like to hear yourself, and nothing bothers me.” “You hate me,” he continued equably, “because I’m honest with you. I’ve never pulled a line of bunk about worshiping the ground you walk on. I’ve admitted I like you. I’ve staked you, from time to time, and paid your bills. Perhaps I understand you better than you understand yourself. So I see you for just about what you are —an unusually pretty little spitfire who wants all the rewards of a life of adventure and who wants to pay none of its penal- ties. You have still to learn that you can’t have both milk and beef from the same cow.” Harrison handed her one of the cocktail glasses with a bow of extreme and exagger- ated deference. Suddenly infuriated, she snatched the glass from him and flung it in his face. The man wheeled, and for an instant his scowl was dangerous. Then with a sudden change of manner he laughed, and, drawing an initialed handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away the stains of his baptism of anger. “There is an Eighteenth Amendment, little shrew,” he reminded her. “ Throw lighted lamps or brickbats or bric-a-brac; THE HILLS. A489 but for God’s sake spare good liquor! How- ever, here’s a dividend,” and he retrieved the miraculously unbroken glass. After refilling it, he handed it to her, and in a quieter but more authoritative voice commanded: “ Now lay off the tempera- mentals and listen to me. Quit kidding yourself with the idea of your great virtue, or else be virtuous.”’ ‘What do you mean, be virtuous?” she demanded angrily. “ When was I ever any- thing else?” “You have never been that—except technically,” he assured her calmly. “‘ Be- cause virtue isn’t limited to the physical side of life. You think you have in you the makings of an actress. Well, I'll be hon- est: I think so, too. Youw’re unedu- cated, but that can be remedied. You're vulgar, but possibly even that can be over- come. ‘‘ Perhaps if we’d happened to meet dif- ferently—that is to say, on a more platonic plane—I might be willing to get behind you with the big brother stuff and undertake to push you on to victory. As it happens, I didn’t meet you that way, and I’m not a fool. You’re too light, my dear, to go through the scrimmage and come out un- scathed.” After a pause, during which he endured a withering fire out of Cynthia’s green eyes, he went on: ‘“ Other men have been nice to you. Why have you picked me out to graft on and quarrel with? Ill tell you. You’re in love with me, or infatuated with me, or some- thing of the sort, just as I’m infatuated with you. You rave about hating me, and you run away from me, but you don’t run very far. | “If I leave you alone long enough, vou call me up. I think you’ve always had a sneaking hope that you can get me so wild I'll propose marriage. You can’t do it, my child. You can get me pretty wild, but not enough for that.’’ ? The girl had gulped down her cocktail and had set down her glass. Now her voice was quiet. “You say I’ve played around with other men,” she declared. ‘I suppose you've played around with other girls, too. Why Conn clooolkksS.com -