Marg: It is not past, I have'nt given up my writing.
Clem Ek?
I'm still going on with my writing or, rather, I've
Marg:
finished writing another book. Yes, the impulse is
stronger than most people realize. I really believe
I should have gone to pieces, if it had'nt been for my
uriting.
What have you written now?
Clem:
Marg: a novel. The weight was too heavy to be borno. It
might have dragged me down--down. Until today I tried
to hid it from you; but it had to come out at last.
Kunigel is immensely taken with it.
Who's Kunigel?
Clem:
My publisher.
Marg:
Then it’s been read already.
Clem:
Yes, and many more will read it. Clement, you will have
Marg:
cause to be proved, believe me.
You are mistaken, my dear. I think-but, tell me, what's
Clem:
it about?
I can’t tell you right off. The novel contains the
Marg:
greatest part, so to speak, and all than can be said of
the greatest part.
My compliment &
Clem:
Marg: That's why I'm going to promise you never to piek up
a pen anymore. I don’t need.
Clem: Margaretto, de you love me?
Marg: What a question! r u and you only. though I have seen a
great deal, though I have added about a great deal, I
have experienced comparatively little. I have recited
all my life for your coming.
Well, let me have the book.
Clem:
Why – – why, what do you mean?
Marg:
I grant you, there was some excuse in your having written
Clem:
it; but it does'nt follow that it's got to be read. Lot
me have it, and we'll know it into the fire.