Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

TIM. sticker, all right,” said the old man, ad- miringly. ‘‘ His middle name is mucilage, sure enough. Pharaoh told me he was still on the job, but I didn’t believe it. Well, it takes all sorts of fellers to make a world, don’t it, Mr. Parker?”’ 421 “It certainly does,” I said, buttoning my collar hastily. ‘‘ And it take all sorts of work to make a living, so I’ve got to be moving. What’s the tax, Doolittle?” “Sixty cents, Mr. Parker. Thanks! Stop in again when you’re in town.” LA Genevieve Wimsatt to you.” “TY won’t open your letters, VU never read your name again as ‘long as I live! T-i-m has spelled disappointment and unhappiness for me, and I’m going to forget that word as soon as I can.” : “ But you can’t! Love won’t let you for- get it. If you shut your eyes to it by day you'll see it written across the night in let- ters of fire.” “Vou talk like one of the minor proph- ets! I tell you I'll never see you again, and in a few months I won’t remember your name.” “You are in a temper, but you love me, and you.can no more forget my name than I can forget your eyes.” Rosalié Caswell jerked her coat-sleeve free from the restraining hand that clutched it, flounced into her apartment, and slammed the door. Timothy Long turned, . B™ you can’t stop me from writing and walked slowly down the hall toward the elevator. * Viewing this stormy parting an unseen and cynical observer might well have shaken his bald and pessimistic head, remarking: ‘“So much for the power of love that the poets sing.” But you and I who know that love is more subtle than cynics, would have counted fifty, very slowly, and waited to see what would happen. We should not have had long to wait. Almost before the elevator had finished its descent Rosalie, in a tweed traveling suit, came from the apartment carrying a suit- case. She again slammed the door, locked it, and turned on her smart French heel. ‘““T’ll never speak, nor hear, nor see his name again!” she vowed to the blank panels of the door. “I'll go to New York, have a spin down Fifth Avenue and up Broad- way, then catch a train for Washington, stay a week with Aunt Ellen and, after that, ho, for Los Angeles!” Some five hours later Rosalie descended from the Pullman wherein she had sulked continuously, took her bag from the porter, crossed Grand Central Station, and looked out upon New York. | “Take me slowly down Fifth Avenue, and up Broadway, and get me to the Penn- sylvania Station for this train,” she directed a taxi driver, showing him a checked figure on a time-table. Sinking back in the leather cavern she closed her eyes tight to restrain. the over- flowing tears. - Fifth Avenue slid past the windows of the moving cab in a current of eddying GComiecboo 5 (E(0)