The Monmouth inquirer., 1920-12-30


IT, 49, her like glove. And the Big Man
made her murder it.
once, he had taught her. In her ignorance she
had married him so that he might teach her. Now
she had got beyond his teaching, and he did not
know it. In his vanity he thought he had made
her. He lived, fattened on that, thrived on the
reflected glory of her art, and ghoul-like the
herself
There was no escape for her from his exactions
of this piece. The author was abroad h Ill
health so he could not be present at rehearsals.
Moreover, because this was his first play, the Big
Man took liberties with 1t as might a theatrical
celebrity
ty of an animal trainer bullying her before the
whole company until they Uttered and then grew
silent with. sympathy
The Big Man came into the room noisly. He
was always called the Big Man. The name fitted
him. He was big in physique and in sef-suffi-
cheney. His face still showed signs of exaspera-,
ton.
Rotten Simply rotten !" he threw at her strid-
Ing up and down. "Five years of drilling things
into you, and you're as dense as when married
you. You queer the business, you slur your lines.
You--you haven't an ounce of the real stuff in you
Don't look at me with that martyred expression
I'd get rid of you if we didn't have to open on
New Years Eve. Now, look here, Wen go through
that business in Act III again. right here now until
can't ask you to sacrifice yourself. :, (He
takes her in his arms). Come on |"
The Big Mans temper was smartng under a
recent newspaper criticism In which, it was sug-
sested that in his next production he should give
premier place to his wife. He specially resented
the advice, because the writer hnted that the
Big Man. dramatically speaking, did not count
Come on!' he repeated.
"No.p
He stared at her. She had never disobeyed him
before 1t nearly staggered him
I'm too tired tonight. Besides, 1 don't agree
that the scene should be played your way. That
was not the authors intention"
He took her by the wrist fBy CAD you'll be
saying the play was written for you next"
1t had been. The author had seen her on the
stage once. He had purposely written his play
round her, because her personality had impressed
nim. The Leading Woman did not know this
Neither did the Big Man.
you've got to do what tell you. If you're
tired, What about me?"
Rather than argue. she gave in 1t wasn't
worth it-arguing with man who could only rea-
son like woman. The worst of 1t was, she could
see through him now. She knew he was Jealous.
She knew he took perverse pleasure in trying
to queer her business" She was perfectly well
aware that could he have dispensed with her. he
would have done so; only box-office receipts had
been good since he had starred her. After he had
lock. There always one way by which she
could secure oblivion of her mental sufferings Not
by morphia, drink, but by letters. A score of
hem, written by her, sealed but not addressed,
lay in a locked drawer of her escrtoire She did
not even know the man who in them, she in
yoked. Her eyes had never seen him. To write
shus one of those queer feminine impulses
hat women who suffer give way to in order to
save their hearts from breaking. They were the
Dnly f0ye-lptfprS she had ever written fa a rnaD
She took up her pen now, striving for calmness
while writing to her Unknown:
"Oh, my dear 1 am so terribly sad, and 1 I'm
so lonely that feel like little child crying in
the dark =. 1t can't go on. / can't bear it
much longer Sometimes in my agony have told
myself to do as other women do, to be worldly,
venal, to laugh and console myself with the first
likely who comes my way. Pride stops me.
md my deep regard for you, Unknown. Shall 1
ever you? VIII you become real, my
deal? Shall never know what love is? For now
ny heart is virgin
"Think of it, Half-ofMy-Soul wherever you are /
[ am a wife, And 1 have never known what it is
70 love, except intangibly I love you. That is
ny punishment for having married without re-
fecton. Beloved, 1 was such child and thought
nothing mattered except my art.
Sometimes. when first began to write to you,
| Unknown l used to ask myself what would hap
pen should meet you? know. as 1 know
still, that 1 shonld recognize you. and at once
[ used to think of myself ever bent to the Big
! Mans will. But l know now that this would not
)e right He has so long forfeited my loyalty. All
! hat is best in me belongs to you, whoever and
/ wherever you are. l could not keep away If you
| leeded me. And I am religious woman
"All this life ! am living Is wrong, unnatural
| Surely It can't go on. I am twentysix-oh, dear
est, only twsnty-six and there is nothing. left t
/ me but work. And in work cannot forge
| because it is emotional
81 am going to write little prayer here. have
,rayed it waking and in my dreams. | send /
low on the wings of my spirit, this petition o.
nv soul, that somewhere and sometime may SEE
sou know you, if only face in thu
| rowd."
She was strung up and she covered pages. Civ
az her emotions full play. To woman Of acut'
sensibiIity there is something very convincing Il
ee idea of a soulmate. 1t was that Leading
gomans consolation and her beacon Of hope.
During tbs following weeks while the new Dla,