The Washington herald., 1922-07-13

tory. and she'd never know the diff
ference"
'T wish our Richard would write
about her"
Anthony. surely you don't think
she's worth writing about"
"As much as anybody" he
answered, yawning. You know I was
thinking today that have a great
confidence in Dick. So long as he
sticks to people and not to ideas. and
as long as his inspirations come from
life and not from art, and always
granting a normal growth. l believe
he'll be a big man."
II should think the appearance of
the black notebook would prove
that he's going to life"
Anthony raised himself on his ell
bow and answered eagerly:
He tries to go to life. So does
every author except the very worst
but after all most of them live on
digested food The incident "r
character may be from life, but the
writer usually interprets It IN
terms of the last book he read. For
instance, suppose he meets sea
captain and thinks he's an original
character. The truth is that he
sees the resemblance between the
captain and the last sea-cap-
tain Dana created, or whoever Gre
ates sea-captains, and therefore ne
knows how to set this sea-captain
on paper. Dick. of course. can set
down any consciously picturesque.
characteristic character, but could
he accurately transcribe his own
sister,"
Then they were off for half an
hour on literature.
"A classic" suggested Anthony.
'fs a successful book that has sur
vived the reaction Of the next
period or generation. Then it's
safe. like a style in architecture
or furniture. It's acquired pic
| turesque dignity to take the place
Of its fashion. -
After a time the subject tenn
porarily lost its tang. The inter
est of the two young men was not
particularly technical. They were
in love with generalities. Anthony
had recently discovered Samuel
Butler and the brisk aphorisms IN
| the notebook seemed to him the
| quintessence of criticism. Maury.
| his whole mind so thoroughly mel
| lowed by the very hardness of his
| scheme of life, seemed inevitably
| the wiser of the two. yet in the
/ actual stuff of their intelligences
I they were not, it seemed, funda-
mentally different.
They drifted from letters to the
| curiosities of each others day.
Whose tea was it?'
"PeopIe named Abercrombie."
Why'd you stay late? Meet a
luscious debutante?'
Did you really?' Anthony's voice
lifted in surprise.
Not a debutante exactly. Said
| she came out two winters ago in
Kansas city"
sort of leftover"
NO" answered Maury with some
amusement, 81 think that's the last
thing I'd say about her. She seemed
well. somehow the youngest per-
son there"
Not too young to make you miss
a train"
Young enough. Beautiful child
Anthony chuckled in his one-syl-
liable snort
"Oh. Maury. you're in your second
childhood. What do you mean by
beautifuI?"
Maury gazed helplessly into space.
We'll, l can't describe her ex-
actly--except to say that she was
beautiful She was-tremendously
What"
at was a sort Of attenuated vice.
| She's a nervous kind-said she al
ways ate gum-drops at teas be-
cause she had to stand around so
long in one place"
''What'd you talk about-Berg-
son? Bilphism? Whether the one
step is immoral?"
Maury was unruffled; his fur
seemed to run all ways.
LAS a matter of fact we did talk
on Bnphism. Seems her mothers
Bfphist Mostly. though, we
talked about legs"
Anthony rocked in glee.
My God! Whose legs?'
Hers. She talked a lot about
hers. As though they were a sort
of choice bric-a-brac. She aroused
a great desire to see them"
What is shea dancer?"
mo, l found she was a cousin OF
Dicks"
Anthony sat upright SO suddenly
that the pillow he released stood
on end like a live thing and dove
to the floor.
"Name's Gloria GiIberto - h. cried
Yes. Isn't she remarkable"
I'm sure I don't know-but for
sheer dulness her father-'
Continued Tomorrow