10-Story Book, July 1931 — page 29: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

10-STORY BEGINS ITS 30TH SUCCESSFUL YEAR! 27 (Continued from page 25) Peter Austin sat at his library table look- ing at the contents of the cedar box. He was taking out little packets of letters, and now and then a photograph or two. He glanced over Yvonne’s letters, and he looked at a few phrases from Ronald’s very in- discreet notes. After a while, at the bottom of the box, he came upon Michael’s letters, and he set himself to reading them carefully, so as to be sure of all that had passed be- tween them. He interrupted himself from time to time to give closer attention to the Sacre du Printemps. In his hotel suite, Michael Bourne listened patiently to his secretary for five minutes, and after that, he shook his head and said, “No, Henderson, I really cannot bring my- self to go. Please give Mrs. Colquhoun my excuses; say that I am indisposed. Tell her anything. I can’t go, that’s all.” “Mrs. Colquhoun made it a special occa- sion because she wished you to meet the Princess Bibesco.” “That’s really too bad, Henderson, be- cause I should like to know the princess. But if I go I shall be required to drink oceans of green tea, which I detest, auto- graph dozens of copies of my latest book, and deliver a speech on how I came to write that wonderful thing I had published last month—what was the name of it, by the way, Henderson ?” “Love at Fifty.” “Beastly thing. I refuse to go. Make my excuses and get something on the radio.” “Very well.” Michael Bourne listened avidly to an or- chestra playing number two of the Liszt Rhapsodies Hongroisies. .Then he began slowly to dress. When he put on his cravat, he remembered that Peter had always com- mented on his bad taste in cravats; so he stood undecided for a time, taking up the one he liked least in the end because he felt certain this would meet with Peter’s ap- proval. He finished dressing finally a little after nine, and he sat down to read Le Temps retrouve. He read quite rapidly, in spite of the fact that the French was rather difficult for him. Proust made so many grammati- cal errors, but his psychology was positively splendid. Presently he looked up from the book and called to his secretary. “Ts it Wednesday or Thursday that I speak to the Rotarians?” “Thursday.” “Have I a subject?” “Not yet.” “Very well. Please note that I will speak on Proust as the greatest writer of the twentieth century.” “To the Rotarians?” “Yes, why not?” “That is not very fitting, is it?” “Really, Henderson, you annoy me. Why can’t I speak on Proust?” “T’m afraid Rotarians don’t read Proust.” On” “Literature will not interest them much.”’ ‘Then why’d they ask me to address them, anyway? What do you suggest?” “T thought you might speak to them on what Zane Grey has done for the American Plains.” “Oh, all right. But make a note of the Proust speech. I’ll give that somewhere.” “May I suggest the Young Ladies’ Liter- ary Society of Oak Park? You address them Friday afternoon.” “Oh, very well. But, I say, Henderson, it’s very likely they won’t understand me at all.” “That's very likely. But I feel sure they would be disappointed if they did.” Henderson smiled, and Michael Bourne found himself smiling also. Then Henderson’s face cleared, and he said, “If you will permit me to remind you of the time, it is already five minutes past ten o'clock.” Michael Bourne jumped up. Henderson (Continued to page 42) ECORNICOOKS.E© m