The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1934-03-01

would be away from him AL day,
but she would come back to him ct
night. The closed door would no.
longer shut her out, for she would
not be there to be shut out; she
would be on the other side OF .
door herself - the door Of . dim
and narrow bookshop.
John Harmon quietly accepted
Stanley's announcement. She told
him that night after they had had
dinner on a shaky card table before
the fire. It was characteristic Of
Stanley that she didn't try to ex-
plain and characteristic Of John
Harmon that he didn't need m ex-
PLANTATION. As q matter of fact, he
was conscious Of . rather startling
feeling of relief.
If John Harmon had seemed the
8 m e to Stanley in these weeks
since their marriage, it was because
he had compelled himself to seem
the same; If he had rumpled his hair
and laughed easily and spent long
hours behind . closed door, It had
been because it was natural for
John Harmon to rumple his hair
and laugh easily with Stanley and
shut himself away from her when
he wanted most desperately to be
with her. He had compelled himself
to do just this for . long time now
and habit, when motivated by IN
impulse as strong rs this one which
shielded Stanley from the full force
Of his love for her, was not easily
put aside.
In his marriage John Harmon
had found no release from his SELF
imposed restraint. He felt very
humble about his happiness and
very responsible. There were times
when he could have wept over the
sweetness of this thing that had
happened to him and other times
when he stood in shaking fear Of
it. He gave Stanley just what he
thought she wanted from him-and
kept his passion dashed to . mast.
Had he loved her less, It would
have been impossible. But because
he loved her SO much, 20 terribly
much, he could shut himself up IN
his study but be could not write.
II Stanley. waiting impatiently
In the room beyond, knew restless.
ness. John Harmon sitting slumped
over his typewriter. knew despair.
He had to write-and to write he
had to lose his own identity, to b.
come . mere automaton, an instru.
ment Of his inspiration; and Just
now with Stanley % near, With
memories Of her even nearer and
more demanding, he could not lose
any part Of himself-hs could not
conjure mp Any inspiration. No
longer could he wander In . world
Of imagery. h was himself. He
was very much alive and vital In .
world Of reality-a world Of devas.
tating, confusing, rapturous reali.
ties.
But because John Harmon was
in love with his craft and because
he was intensely In love with Stan.
ley and because he saw In his pss.
sion for her = threatening Disaster
to both Of these beloved objects.
he stayed In tho room behind the
closed door and wrote aimlessly. or
not ct all. and wondered where Il
would al end.
And then. niraculously, STANLEY
had gone. She was away from early
morning till late afternoon. Once
more John Harmon was slonA =
alone with his paper and his ink
and his inspiration. No longer was
he conscious Of every movement 81
the outer room, no longer did every
minute spent ct his desk require
an effort, no longer was there any
need to try to forget that be had
only 70 speak 70 summon her. She
had gone and q night she would
come back to him. Until then he
could forget himself, forget Stan.
ley. Once more he found that be-
could write. And with the undo.
scribabls joy that only the sensi.
lively creative can ever know he
fell upon his task and lost himself
In it.