"It is all true. I am
here, locked in. The Play is almost done. And a very young lady on the
doorstep is offering me a suit of Clothes and Tobaco. I pinch myself. I
am awake."
Alas! Mingled with my joy at serving my Ideal there was also greif. My
idle had feet of clay. He was a slave, like the rest of us, to his body.
He required clothes and tobaco. I felt that, before long, he might even
ask for an apple, or something to stay the pangs of hunger. This I felt
I could not bare.
Perhaps I would better pass over quickly the events of the next hour. I
got the suit and the cigarettes, and even Jane's bath towle, and through
them in to him. Also I beleive he took a shower, as I heard the water
running, At about seven o'clock he said he had finished the play. He put
on the Clothes which he observed almost fitted him, although gayer than
he usually wore, and said that if I would give him a hair pin he thought
he could pick the Lock. But he did not succeed.
Being now dressed, however, he drew a chair to the window and we
talked together. It seemed like a dream that I should be there, on such
intimate terms with a great Playwright, who had just, even if under
compulsion, finished a last Act, I bared my very soul to him, such as
about resembling Julia Marlowe, and no one understanding my craveing to
acheive a Place in the World of Art. We were once interupted by Hannah
looking for me for dinner. But I hid in a bath-house, and she went away.
What was Food to me compared with such a Conversation?
When Hannah had disappeared, he said suddenly:
"It's rather unusual, isn't it, your having a suit of clothes and
everything in your--er--studio?"
But I did not explain fully, merely saving that it was a painful story.
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