|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 8
Ashe could not restrain his admiration.
"This is genius!"
"Oh, no!"
"Absolute genius. I see it all. The hero calls in Gridley Quayle,
and that patronizing ass, by the aid of a series of wicked
coincidences, solves the mystery; and there am I, with another
month's work done."
She looked at him with interest.
"Are you the author of Gridley Quayle?"
"Don't tell me you read him!"
"I do not read him! But he is published by the same firm that
publishes Home Gossip, and I can't help seeing his cover
sometimes while I am waiting in the waiting room to see the
editress."
Ashe felt like one who meets a boyhood's chum on a desert island.
Here was a real bond between them.
"Does the Mammoth publish you, too? Why, we are comrades in
misfortune--fellow serfs! We should be friends. Shall we be
friends?"
"I should be delighted."
"Shall we shake hands, sit down, and talk about ourselves a
little?"
"But I am keeping you from your work."
"An errand of mercy."
She sat down. It is a simple act, this of sitting down; but, like
everything else, it may be an index to character. There was
something wholly satisfactory to Ashe in the manner in which this
girl did it. She neither seated herself on the extreme edge of
the easy-chair, as one braced for instant flight; nor did she
wallow in the easy-chair, as one come to stay for the week-end.
She carried herself in an unconventional situation with an
unstudied self-confidence that he could not sufficiently admire.
Etiquette is not rigid in Arundell Street; but, nevertheless, a
girl in a first-floor front may be excused for showing surprise
and hesitation when invited to a confidential chat with a
second-floor front young man whom she has known only five
minutes. But there is a freemasonry among those who live in large
cities on small earnings.
"Shall we introduce ourselves?" said Ashe. "Or did Mrs. Bell tell
you my name? By the way, you have not been here long, have you?"
"I took my room day before yesterday. But your name, if you are
the author of Gridley Quayle, is Felix Clovelly, isn't it?"
"Good heavens, no! Surely you don't think anyone's name could
really be Felix Clovelly? That is only the cloak under which I
hide my shame. My real name is Marson--Ashe Marson. And yours?"
"Valentine--Joan Valentine."
"Will you tell me the story of your life, or shall I tell mine
first?"
"I don't know that I have any particular story. I am an
American."
"Not American!"
"Why not?"
"Because it is too extraordinary, too much like a Gridley Quayle
coincidence. I am an American!"
"Well, so are a good many other people."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|