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50
MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE
hour later of George himself, and his heavy, red face flamed as he saw the manuscript in her hands. She did not chide or threaten. But the even tone of her arraignment warned him, before she said the words, that his chance of her was over.
"The little typist whom you paid to destroy the first manuscript of the book has thought better of her bad bargain," she said evenly, tossing the roll of bills on the table with contemptuous finger-tips. ' * This old woman, her grandmother, saw you pick up the package that the 'kind gentleman' let fall when he helped her across the street. He was taking it to his publishers. It is quite, quite plain to me now. ' '
"Meta, Meta," groaned the wretched man, "I loved you — I knew if you ever saw his infernal book you'd not marry me. Oh, yes ; I read enough of it at the typist's to know that. Confound him, Meta; I — I loved — you "
"That is not real love," she told him scornfully. "You loved yourself and wanted me. That is a very different thing. Love should make a man a hero, not a thief." :
Thru the enchanted forest of moonshine and moon-shadow walked the two, silent because they had so much to say. Joy made them timid, afraid of one another. At last:
"You read the manuscript — you understood ? "
"Yes" — her voice broke — "I read
MACPHERSON HAS A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN
it. I did not dare try to understand."
"Only words, words," he scoffed — "the shadows of thoughts."
"Beautiful words, I thought them," she whispered. "But I did not need 'The Wood Nymph' to teach me to love you. Your poems taught me that a long time ago."
' ' Poems ! Books ! What can they say ? ' ' cried Norman MacPherson, and caught her in his arms. "Oh, little girl! lift up your face to me and let me tell you that I love you in a better way than words. ' '
The Players
B/ E. K.
'Twas only last night I saw her, Old and wrinkled and gray ;
Today she is young and bloomingOh, what is the secret, pray?
Last week he fell from a precipice A hundred or more feet high ;
Tonight he is dancing and trotting aboutTe gods ! do they never die?