BEVERLEY SANDS TO BEN DOOLITTLE
July 8.
DEAR BEN:
I saw the announcement in the morning paper about Tilly.
It wouldn't be worth while to write how I feel.
It is true that I traced Miss Chamberlain, homeless in New York. And I saw her. As to whether I have been feeding cheques to her, that is solely a question of my royalties. Royalties are human gratitude; why should not the dews of gratitude fall on one so parched? Besides, I don't owe you anything, gentleman.
Yes, I feel you're going—you're passing on to Polly. I append a trifle which explains itself, and am, making the best of everything, the same
BEVERLEY SANDS.
A Meditation in Verse
(Dedicated to Benjamin Doolittle as showing his
favourite weakness)
How can I mind the law's delay,
Or what a jury thinks it knows,
Or what some fool of a judge may say?
Polly comes with the wedding clothes.