"
"Thanks awfully," he said. "But from the slight
acquaintance we have had, I don't beleive they would fit me."
"Gentleman's Clothes," I said fridgidly.
"You have?"
"In my Studio," I said. "I can bring them, if you like.
They look quite good, although Creased."
"You know" he said, after a moment's silence, "I can't
quite beleive this is realy happening to me! Go and bring the
suit of clothes, and--you don't happen to have a cigar, I
suppose,?"
"I have a large box of Cigarettes."
"It is true," I heard him say through the door. "It is all
true. I am here, locked in. The Play is almost done. And a very
young lady on the doorstep is offering me a suit of Clothes and
Tobaco. I pinch myself. I am awake."
Alas! Mingled with my joy at serving my Ideal there was
also greif. My idle had feet of clay. He was a slave, like the
rest of us, to his body. He required clothes and tobaco. I felt
that, before long, he might even ask for an apple, or something
to stay the pangs of hunger. This I felt I could not bare.
Perhaps I would better pass over quickly the events of the
next hour.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154