We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
S i
^MOTION PICTURp Bl I MAGAZINE L
was jealous. Idiotic, but so it was. She had done nothing— nothing, to give either of them an excuse for indulging in emotions about her. Why, Stoner was actually repugnant to her the moment he tried to become personal. The other— well, Gene was a charming boy. But she didn't want to be annoyed with love. She wanted to have a career. Men were frightful handicaps, with their continuous harping on romance and the help they flattered themselves they could be.
"Listen, people!" She modified the subject adroitly. "The best thing about this house is that it makes good on its appearance. Mysterious lodgers have stayed here. Strange things have happened."
May Cheshire, Lulu Leinster and the three other girls from A Toreador's Love were a unit in shrieking for details.
"I only heard about it yesterday," said Margot, making the most of her budget of gossip. "I was talking to the landlady. She says that about three months ago, a girl who was living in this very room disappeared in the funniest way. I dont mean that she walked out, bag and She literally disappeared, leaving all her beeven to her comb and toothbrush — behind her. And she never came back."
Stoner hurriedly poured the last cocktail from the shaker, picked up the tray and started to pass it around.
baggage, longings
"That's interesting," he said
"What sort of girl was she?"
"Her name was Stella Ball.
his eyebrows puckered. She was supposed to be
working half-time at Macy's — in the afternoon, when the store is busiest. But after she'd vanished, the landlady called up Macy's, and they'd never heard of her."
"Killed in the streets, by an automobile, I guess. There isn't anything so mysterious about that. Lots of accident cases aren't identified, because they have no papers on them."
"Ah, yes! But wait until you hear the rest of it," declared Margot, enjoying the suspense. "On the same day, an old man named Murchison, who had a room on the top floor, also disappeared with equal finality."
"A really old man?" asked Lulu.
"Yes, dear. I know you've jumped straight to the conclusion that they eloped. But this Murchison was at least sixty. Wiry rather than feeble for his age, the landlady says; but a repellent, hatchet-faced, stoop-shouldered person. It's too much to imagine any girl looking twice at him, especially as he stuck in his room evenings like a hermit and was barely civil to women."
"Where did he have a job, Margot?" asked Eugene.
"Nobody knows. He'd always refused to tell."
"If the old bird had money, thi fallen for him," argued Lulu.
"Nonsense, dear. He wasn't a miser, with bags of gold in his trunk, such as you read about in fiction. That sort doesn't hold down a job. Murchison did work, and he earned next to nothing, to judge by the way he lived."
"Call it a case of hypnotism and be done with it," cried Stoner, flippantly.
Stella might have
fr
i»
i
48
GG.
"Wait until you've heard the rest of it," said Margot, enjoying the suspense. "On the same day. an old man named Murchison, who had a room on the top floor, also disappeared with equal finality''