inspiration in this contact. Little he minded the acid greeting, on
his return, of a mere Gashwiler, spawning in his low mind a
monstrous suspicion that the dying aunt had never lived.

Now he read in his magazines other intimate interviews by other
talented young women who had braved the presence of other screen
idols of both sexes. The interviewers approached them with
trepidation, and invariably found that success had not spoiled them.
Fine artists though they were, applauded and richly rewarded, yet
they remained simple, unaffected, and cordial to these daring
reporters. They spoke with quiet dignity of their work, their
earnest efforts to give the public something better and finer. They
wished the countless readers of the interviews to comprehend that
their triumphs had come only with infinite work and struggle, that
the beautiful comes only through suffering and sacrifice. At lighter
moments they spoke gayly of their palatial homes, their domestic
pets, their wives or husbands and their charming children. They all
loved the great out-of-doors, but their chief solace from toil was
in this unruffled domesticity where they could forget the worries of
an exacting profession and lead a simple home life. All the husbands
and wives were more than that--they were good pals; and of course
they read and studied a great deal. Many of them were wild about
books.

He was especially interested in the interview printed by Camera with
that world favourite, Harold Parmalee. For this was the screen
artist whom Merton most envied, and whom he conceived himself most
to resemble in feature. The lady interviewer, Miss Augusta Blivens,
had gone trembling into the presence of Harold Parmalee, to be
instantly put at her ease by the young artist's simple, unaffected