New Britain herald., 1929-08-24
THIS HAS HAPPENED

Molly has everything on earth that should make a woman happy-suc- cess, wealth. and the love of a dear little girl The child is tho daughter of Mollys college roor1- mate, and Molly has taken care of her since Rita's untimely death Still, with all the things that should make life full, Molly is strangely unhappy.
 There are three men who com plicate things-Jack Wells. her first sweetheart who is in Italy now with a middle-aged milllonairess. Mrs. Bulwer- Eaton is the old lady's name, and Jack, who Is an archi- tect, is in her employ. Molly resents the situation furiously, but there i1 nothing she can do about 1t.
 Then there is Red Flynn, a re- porter and a regular fellow, who makes love casually. Red has an !n- valid mother, and has promised her that he will never marry during her lifetime.
 The third is Bob Newton, little Rita's father. who has asked Molly to marry him. Molly has no regard for Bob, but she lives Tn mortal terror of losing Rita. whom she loves above all reason.
 She is working now on her DO >k' which is rather autobiographica' NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
 CHAPTER XL
 There is a story about the young CT Dumas, and how he shut himself up in a garret, and wrot DOCK in no time at all. Victor Hugo IS said to have done something of he same sort. And there is lesser nov elist who took a VOW neither 10 shave nor to bathe until he con- pleted his book.
 The chances are, however, that in point of time-Molly beat them all. She scarcely slept until Ashes of Desire" was completed.
 Once, when she was a reported. the poetess. Miss Lowell did all her work at night, writing in bed, propped up by Is feather pillows. She drew the curtains against the sunlight, and tackled black cloths over the mirrors. Because the crea- tive fire, she said, burned more brightly at nighttime, or under artificial light.
 Try it, my dear" she advised. And never forget that genius is nine-tenths work. You've got 10 sweat for success"
 Molly had remembered. Like Miss Lowell she turned night into day, working while others slept. She plugged her telephone bell, and told Mary she was at home to no one.
 She grew pale and thin. And her eyes took on particular green light, and looked huge. and a trifle wild. She drank quarts of black coffee. and cared nothing for substantial food.
 She withheld herself from even Rita, vowing that nothing should interfere with the completion Of her greatest work. Once. when F"d Flynn came-and refused to leave until he had seen her-she begged him not to be disappointed in her when her book proved unpopular "Oh. it will be popular all right" he assured her. Everything you do is wow.'
 But this Is different" she ox- plained. "'Ashcs of Desire will never be popular. I don't want it to be. I want just to speak sim ply, truly, to the few who will un- derstand. l never want again what ! the world means when it says sue cess"
 Red stared at her, uncompre- hending.
 What" he asked inelegantly. | What in blazes is eating you?'
 "I mean it." she insisted. T ar, trying now to be true to the real ! things"
 You look like the devil" he m terrupted, scowling at her paleness, |
 My work is done" she told him gently, in grief and pain. Yet I i must write, or die"
 He shrugged contemptuously.
 "You're getting arty," he ac- | cused. Success has gone to your | head. You're going temperamental. Snap out of it, old thing
 He went away angrily. because | he thought she was posing. But | worried, also, because she was thin and white. And, since he could do | nothing about it that made h'm | angrier still Molly watched him from her window. drawing tne . shade aside cautiously, He did not 1 look back. but stepped into his old | car, slamming the door furiously, | and driving away in chatter of . rollicking lenders and loose bump CTS
 A week later the manuscript was finished. Molly wrapped it senti- mentally in lavender tissue. and | tied it with lavender ribbons. Then she carried it herself to her agent.
 I'll look at it tonight" the man promised, 'and call you first thing in the morning. Theren be no trouble finding publisher. Of course. you know that"
 But he did not wait until morn ing. At 10 o'clock he telephoned.
 I've read Ashes of Desire, Mss Burnham" (hesitantly and bit apologe
 "Yes?" she prompted. You don, care for it. Mr. HaIl?"
 It's so unlike anything you've done," he protested.
 Its the best thing I've done"
 "But your public doesn't expect this sort of novel from you. They want you to give them crime, Miss Burnham"