The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

BEFORE THE DARK. that no outside matter, such as being in love, would make any difference to them. Apparently it did not, but deep down in his heart Osgood had determined to leave nothing undone to win Edith Trevor. He did not mean to carry her off, or do anything like the heroes of romantic novels and musical com- edies. But he was hoping and watch- ing just the same. And he had told himself he would not lose—whatever the cost, he would win. | They were walking briskly now, passing without more than a glance at the stands and tents that enticed the ordinary stroller. Already some ladies had arrived in the enclosure on the far side of the parade-ground. Even at the distance they could see that many of the chairs were occupied. Before long a large number of fair spectators would be there. One of them would be Edith Trevor. At the thought of it Bennett quickened his Step. His eager search was soon reward- ed. A pretty girl in a white dress, ac- companied by an older woman, pre- sumably her mother, was coming to- ward him in the distance. Apparently she knew who was approaching, for she started to walk slower, as though she had been hastening to a destination which was now reached.. Bennett felt his heart beating faster and his cheeks growing red. It is never at any time easy to walk any distance under observation. One’s face begins to feel the color of a lob- ster, one’s feet protrude alarmingly and seem to cover acres, one’s knees are unreliable, and one’s hands, which seem to belong absolutely nowhere, assume enormous proportions. And when one’s progress is being watched by the girl of all girls, the one whose opinion and regard matters, the ordeal is increased a hundredfold. The only antidote to pronounced self-consciousness, we are informed by the writers of books on social etiquette, 93 is to think about the other person and to transfer one’s interest from oneself to him—or her. This would be easy were one sitting in the dark. It is not easy on a bright summer’s afternoon, with people all round looking at one, sizing him up. But as Bennett drew close he forgot himself. All he saw was Edith, who was smiling at him in a way which showed clearly that she was glad to see him. He and Osgood raised their caps and said good afternoon. Then there was one of those pauses which, occurring at the beginning of a meeting, make progress difficult. It was just saved from becoming an awkward silence by Osgood’s suggesting that they go on to the stand. They found a good point of vantage, and Mrs. Trevor made herself com- fortable. Her daughter remained standing, with the two men a yard or so away. Osgood was debating mentally wheth- er or not to mention the fortune-teller and to recall to Miss Trevor her own prediction of two years before. He looked across at Bennett. Bennett was thoughtful and quiet. Osgood decided that he would say nothing about 1t—not at the moment, at any rate. Some one addressed a remark to him, and he turned to answer. At the saine moment Bennett made a remark to the girl. Conversation began. It continued briskly for some little time. At length Bennett, looking round, saw that Osgood was talking to a man in uniform who seemed to know a great deal about the right way to drill troops. At least, he talked as though he did. Bennett saw, with satisfaction, that Edith and he were practically alone. “ There’s time for a stroll,” he said to her in a low tone. ‘“ Do you care for it? I have one or two things I want to say to you.” She thought for a moment or two. “All right,” she said. “TI’ll tell mother.”’ CoOMmicbook CO