This, dear readers and schoolmates, is the true story of my
meeting with and parting from Reginald Beecher, the playwright.
Whatever the papers may say, it is not true, except the Fact
that he was recognized by Jane Raleigh, who knew the suit he
wore, when in the act of pawning his ring to get money to escape
from his captors (_i. e._, The Pattens) with. It was the necktie
which struck her first, and also his gilty expression. As I was
missing by that time, Jane put two and two together and made an
Elopement.
Sometimes I sit and think things over, my fingers wandering
"over the ivory keys" of the typewriter they gave me to promise
not to elope with anybody--although such a thing is far from my
mind--and the World seems a cruel and unjust place, especialy to
those with ambition.
For Reginald Beecher is no longer my ideal, my Night of the
pen. I will tell about that in a few words.
Jane Raleigh and I went to a matinee late in September
before returning to our institutions of learning. Jane cluched
my arm as we looked at our programs and pointed to something.
How my heart beat! For whatever had come between us, I was
still loyal to him.
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