Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-11-08
The Sword of Truth
THAT TRUTH HURTS SOMETIMES

She glanced ever to MIN, with Just
touch OF Impotence
Does u matter"
No; but | would like to know"
Her :sce flushed to a deeper Grim
son, but she laughed as she ans
Jwered.
"a book you detest, John! Richard
Barton's lAtest-'The wake OF he
ship
HE TELLS HER.
John Perriam shifted In ais chair,
and spoke more irritably than usual
How can you read suon rubbish >"
1T amus9s me. ! confess | rather
like it,
John Perriam shrugged his shnul-
ders. and there was contemptuous
smile on his face.
Like Il? Coca Lord! You know
my opinion of It, and of the other
precious masterpieces by the same
author. doomed by the ha'penry
press
Yes" said Alice Perriam. Il know
your opinion OF IT, have read II
only this afternoon"
She pointed to a copy Of his paper
lying on tho little table by her side.
on that was a cruel review, John!
II must have cut the man like sharp
knife"
ut was the simple truth. AS critic
! have to do my duty-to tell the
truth"
The truth"
Mrs. Perriam raised her hands
long, beautiful hands--Rnd let them
fall again into her lap.
Need the truth be told 30 brutallyf
Need IL be used TO strip the fiesh on
the bones of an author? Think of the
man who wrote this book. He didn't
write II for fun. Perhaps he wrote 1t
to earn his bread and butter, to Keep
his home together Perhaps he wrote
1t In agony and tears. But your Gym
ioism pierces his emotion, ridicules his
sentiment, holds up some of his hasty
phrases, his swift. sIipshod sentences,
TO the laughter OF literary pedants.
ficult to createp'
Perriams face was quite white
Never before had his wife spoken to
him like this. Her words stabbed
him. she was using the sword Of
truth Perhaps she knew that she
was hurting him, for her own face
had lost Its color and her eyes were
burning. But she held up the book
which had been on her lap. and spoke
again.
Take this man, Richard Barton
You have fayed him not once. but
| three times. And yet some OF his
Ideas are strangely like your own
When | read his books l seem to hear
some of your own ideas Many OF his
! thoughts express your own character
! should have imagined that his
novels would have appealed TO you
Why be 80 hard on him.?
The man groaned, He came for
ward 10 his wife and took her hands
| There was a great emotion in his
| face and In his voice
Alice, the truth Is always cruel
| You have told me the truth tonight,
and II has hurt me. But. oh. dear, l
! have worse truth to tell you now.
/ Have YOU courage TO hear it," He
: had no courage to tell Yet in q
/ broken way he told her OF his dis.
! missal from his post, of the loss OF
/ the salary which had kept them In
| comfort after their years OF struggle,
! She took his cold hands and drew
! them TO her breast
We shall never see poverty again.
] am rich, John. Richl"
"Richl"
II seemed to him that she had gone
a little mad
She laughed nervously.
"Oh, unobservant mani How do
you think | bought this gown, on that
poor salary of yours? How do Won
think l have been buying so MANY
pretty things OF late, out OF tina
housekeeping money? That holiday
OF mine in Paris! oh, I had to hide
my eXtravaERnce thereI John. nv
poor dear, II YOU like you need nsyer
work again. for I have enough for
both"
"you@"
He was frightened This world
seemed to have slipped beneath him
He had no hold upon reality
What do you mean"
She olushed very deeply. and put
her head down so that her forehead
touched his lips
MY dear. ] am Richard Barton, the
successful novelist. ....I am the au.
thor TO whom you told the truth"