Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

A NEW GIRL IN face out of reach of his lips. Alarmed by her stillness, he suddenly let her go, that he might see what was in her face. It was not at all what he expected. She was gazing at him like a grave and startled child. ‘“‘What’s the matter?” he said. do you look at me like that?” She brushed a hand across her eyes. She was perfectly honest then. “T—I don’t know,” she stammered. ‘“* You just confuse me. I don’t know what is expected of a girl. .I must be myself.” This was a new type to Sutliffe. ‘“ Are you just playing with me?” he de- manded. She hung her head. “TI didn’t mind your doing it,’ she confessed. “ But there’s nothing in it. I don’t like it!” This hurt his vanity horribly. “You're just a flirt!” he cried. “It’s ridiculous for you to make believe you don’t feel anything! Oh, God! You're so beau- tiful!”’ He attempted roughly to take her in his arms again. This time she actively resist- ed. She got to her feet. He was reduced to the position of supplant. ‘“‘Diantha! Diantha!” “Vou don’t love me,” she said sud- denly. ‘“Diantha! When I’m nearly out of my mind with wanting you! I can think of nothing else. When I’m away from you I’m lost!” She slowly shook her head. ‘“‘ That’s not the same thing, is it?* If you really loved me—I’d know!” She added to herself: “ And I couldn’t do this.” -This detached attitude was a more cruel blow to his self-love than any amount of denial, of resistance, could have been. He almost raved. “You have no heart! me of being cold!” “Not exactly of being cold,” she said, with the shadow of a smile. He made to seize her again. She put a chair between them. ‘Why can’t you be sensible?” she plead- ed. “I like you very much—but I can’t share in these explosions. Why can’t you let things take their course?” And you accuse TOWN. 231 ‘What do you think a man is?” he stormed. ‘‘ Something tame? You led me on—you confessed it. Now you make be- heve you don’t understand. There are ugly names for that sort of thing.” That look of hers pulled him up in mid- career—the grave, searching, slightly puz- zled look of a child. ‘“ Why do you turn ugly, Kirwan?” He was shamed and furious. He turned away from her. Dimly he understood that he should never possess her tntil he had destroyed in her the capacity to shame him with that look. He muttered under his breath: “ Heartless flirt! Just playing with me! You understand very well what you are about!” Diantha knew he was just striking in the dark. ° “I suppose I’ve got to excuse you on account of your feelings,” she said good- humoredly. “ But I’m not going to stay and let you go on abusing me. Come on, let’s see the rest of that show.”’ “No!” he cried. “Well, I’m going. You can stay here and play the electrical piano if you'd rather.” She went for her wrap. Before they left the house a message was received from the colonel, saying he would not be home until morning. Sutliffe cheered up. He persuaded himself that he was not, after all, so badly off. Diantha had not ac- tually repulsed him. She had not mounted the high horse of outraged virtue, as most women would. In a way of speaking, she had encour- aged him to go ahead. Only that childish strangeness stood between them. And he had all night now. On the way to the theater and in the carkened auditorium Sutliffe kept a curb on his tongue, and made love to Diantha with his practiced eyes, with his shoulder touching hers, with fleeting caresses of his hand on hers. The incorrigible Diantha, who seemed strangely unversed in the ways of her sex, showed that she liked it rather, was amused by it, but her eyes continued to meet Sutliffe’s as untroubled by any comicboooks C©