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

she glanced over TO him. with just
torch OF impotence.
Does u matter?'
"No. but ! would like to know"
Her .oce flushed to a deeper Grim
son. bus she laughed as she ans
SWered.
"A book you detest. John! Richard
Barton's Jatcst-'The Wake Of me
Ship"
HE TELLS HER.
John Perriam shifted In his chair.
and spoke more irritably than usual
How can you read such rubbish >"
1T amusss me ] confess / rather
like IT."
John PeTram shrugged his snoul-
ders. and there was a contemptuous
smile on his face.
Like =? Coco Lord! You know
my opinion of T. and of the other
precious masterpieces by the same
author doomed by the hapenry
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 the little table by her side.
'Oh. that was cruel review, John!
1t must have cut the man like sharp
knife"
at was the simple truth. AS critic
i have TO do my duty-to tell the
truth"
THE truth"
Mrs. Perrlam raised her hands
long. beautiful hands-and let them
fall again into her lap.
Need the truth be told so brutality
Need IL be used to strip the flesh OF
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 homo together Perhaps he wrote
it in agony and tears. But your Gym
iG!sm pierces his emotion. ridicules his
sentiment, holds up some of his hasty
phrases, his swift. slipshod sentences,
TO the laughter of literary pedants.
John. II Ia so easy to criticise, so diff
hcult TO creater'
Pertains face was quite white
Never before had his wife spoken tc
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 ffayed him not once, but
three times. And yet some OF his
Ideas are strangely like your own
When l 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 so hard on himY'
The man groaned. He came for
ward to his wife and took her hands
There was 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. /
I have worse truth to tell you now,
| Have you courage to hear it?" He
had no courage TO tell. Yet In a
I 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. Richr
4 "Richl"
1t seemed 10 him that she had gone
a little mad
She laughed nervoesly.
I "Oh, unobservant mani How do
you think l bought this gown, on.that
poor salary of yours7 How do Won
think / have been buying so many
pretty things OF late. out of thu
housekeeping money! That holiday
Of mine IN Parisl Oh, / had TO hid.
my eNtravagance therel John. nv
poor dear II you like you need never
work again, for I have enough for
both"
your"
He was frightened. The world
seemed to have slipped beneath him
He had no hold upon reality.
what do YOU mean"
she Flushed very deeply, and nut
her head down SO that her forehead
touched his lips
My dear, / am Richard Barton, tn,
successful novelist. L am the au.
thor to whom you told the truth"