Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

230 earth, I guess! A soft fool! That’s why I go to the tables. When the wheel spins I can forget for a second what a fool I really am.” CHAPTER XT, THE CASINO. NE night, in the middle of dinner, Gumpel brought in a distressing mes- sage. John Duranty, an old pal of the colonel’s, had been stricken with apo- plexy. Except for doctors and nurses, he was alone in his apartment. The colonel instantly rose to go. Sutliffe cast down his eyes to hide the glint of satisfaction that appeared in them. Diantha begged to be allowed to accompany the colonel. He would not hear of it. ‘* Sutliffe, you take care of her,” he said. ‘Yes, sir,” said Sutliffe demurely. The colonel went. The other two soon rose from the table. They had planned to go to the theater that night, but Sutliffe said: “ Let’s not go out.” Diantha was dubious. “I’m sure the play is like a hundred others we have seen and shall see, and I may never get another chance to talk to you alone.” His voice shook a little, and Diantha thrilled to it. What girl would not? “ All right,” she said, not meeting his eyes. They sauntered back into the drawing- room. Sutliffe’s eyes brooded upon Dian- tha’s adorable bare shoulders. She was wearing a black evening dress without any ornament except the Wexford pearls. The pearls mantled and glowed like little living bodies. The fairness of Diantha’s skin lent them a dusky tinge. As they passed the piano Diantha brushed her fingers across the keys. It was an immense mahogany grand with elaborate rococo designs embossed in gold. Once con- sidered the very last word in the art of the cabinetmaker, its gorgeousness had lately become ,a joke in the household. “This thing runs by electricity,” re- marked Diantha. ‘“‘'There’s a generator: ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. out in the hat stand that makes a noise like a trolley car climbing a hill. Shall I turn it on?” “* Heaven forbid!” said Sutliffe. “Wish I could play,” she said. weave spells over you.” ‘“* Music isn’t necessary for that.” Diantha laughed. “You always have that sort of thing ready to hand out.” In the hollow of the big piano case was a little empire sofa. It was just outside the direct rays of the piano lamp; the cen- ter lights had not been turned on. In the 6 I'd /warm half light and shielded by the piano from the observation of any one who might look in through the door, it made an in- viting nook. The¥ took it, as a matter of course. Diantha was oppressed by the beating of her heart, and was oddly self-conscious for herself. But she would not have turned back. “Black is the thing for you to wear,” murmured Sutliffe. ‘*'You’ve already said that about white, about pink, about silver cloth,” laughed Diantha. | ““T know. Everything you put on seems the thing—until the next thing. But there is something about you in black that—that takes a man’s breath away.” Diantha laughed not quite naturally, and with a girl’s instinct made a determined effort to keep the talk in the safe shallows. She rattled on about clothes. He brushed it away with a gesture. He took her hand, and Diantha’s light talk failed in her throat. It was amusing to play a game. But she had not foreseen how dangerous it was. This was playing with fire. “‘'What’s the use of making believe?” he murmured. Panic seized her. “Oh, Kirwan, don’t! It’s too soon! Let me be myself!” He drew her slowly toward him. She resisted only a little. He flung his arms around her, and, straining her hard against his breast, pressed his lips to her pulsing throat. The sweetness of her dizzied him. She lay perfectly inert in his arms, holding her comicboooks C©