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Told in Story Form from the Vitagraph-Earle Williams Photoplay
By ALEXANDER LOWELL
Hi;.\KY Ki:i.i,oi;i; was flushed by the wine of the grape anil the headier wine of success. He could afford to he expansive, and he was. He eyed his friend and the sharer of his Park .\vcnue bed and board with a speculative as well as a kindly eye. I'inally he said. ''Dont be desixmdent, old man. You'\e always been successful in one line, at least."
Xalhaniel Duncan didn't raise his head nor cease his nervous tiddlin(; with a macerated cigaret. Hut he said, colorles.sly, "What line?"
"Women," said Kellog;,' and shot him a glance.
"Oh, that ..."
"It could be remunerative, v'know. I've a (ilan."
"Shoot."
"Dont be so lifeless. One thing you've got to have is pep . . . your old-time pep. It's your asset. Your stock in trade. All you've got to do is be yourself."
"I cant cash in on that. You know tliat."
"No, I dont. The point is, that you have never been yourself. S'ou've tried to b.e everybody but yourself, every kind of type. That's why you haven't succeeded. You need the chance of self-development. You can get that by . . ."
"By . . . ?"
"Hy marriage. '
"I'm damned if I do! I cant support myself. What th' hell d'you mean coming in here with a line of jibber like this? Cant you see I'm on my ui)pers for fair? Down and out? I'm in no mood for your l)ibulous mirth. You've had a big success. I can see that. I can even be glad. But dont stand on the pinnacle of it and throw your fool cabbage-roses down at me. They . . . tonight they hurt."
Henry Kellogg shook his head. "You've got me as wrong as I've got you light, old man," he said; "actually, I'm in earnest. Here you are, college-bred, the son of a millionaire who, kindly enough, he thought, robbed you of incentive and conse(|uently of initiative. Result, failure and discouragement. What he didn't lob you of, however, is your appearance, your charm foi' women — oh, a decent enough charm, I know that ; in short, your personality. My plan is for you to go to some .small town a safe distance from any city. The sort of town vhere a man like you would be Prince Charming come to flesh
(Fiftil-one)
and blood, set all the hearts a-flutter, a thing of fairyland, you know ... all that . . . I'll slake you to all exjienses and a wardrobe fit to knock the eyes out of lifty local belles, .ind all you have to do is . . . to marry tlie town heiress. There's always a town heiress. . /// you need to do, say, is . . . to be your father's son."
Nathaniel Duncan had one faculty. He realized a limit when a limit liad been reached. Today he knew that he had reached one. He had had dreams, perhaps oddly. He had had ideals. He had even mused on love and the |)a t it would play in his life; on marriage and the, building u[) of a home. Oi course, it would take love to do that. The ]ilan Kellogg suggested jilaced the limit on that. He could marry the town heiress and lie could bid farewell to his dreams of conlcur dc rose.
Well . . .
and choosers ... he knew that old adage. And he knew that he was beggared. In all things save acquie s c e n c e which took, tonight, the form of obedience to the man in evening