Harlequin and Columbine by Booth Tarkington
page 68 of 101 (67%)
page 68 of 101 (67%)
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a breath of air. Just a breath."
"We used to settle the universe in that little back restaurant room," said Rieger. "Not one of use had ever got a thing into print--and me, I haven't yet, for that matter. Editors still hate my stuff. I've kept my oath, though; I've never compromised--never for a moment." "Yes," Canby responded feebly, wondering what the man was talking about. Wanda Malone was surely on the stage, now. If he turned, walked about thirty feet, and opened a door, he would see her--hear her speaking! "I've had news of your success," said Rieger. "I saw in the paper that Talbot Potter was to put on a play you'd written. I congratulate you. That man's a great artist, but he never seems to get a good play; he's always much, much greater than his part. I'm sure you've given him a real play at last. I remember your principles: Realism; no compromise! The truth; no shirking it, no tampering with it! You've struck out for that--you've never compro--" "No. Oh, no," said Canby, waking up a little. "Of course you've got to make a little change or two in plays. You see, you've got to make an actor like a play or he won't play it, and if he won't play it you haven't got any play--you've only got some typewriting." Rieger set his foot upon the step and rested his left forearm upon his knee, and attitude comfortable for street debate. |
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