“What you’ve been up to, the stage, and writing plays, and now liquor and tobacco!”
Now I may be at fault in the Narative that follows. But I ask the school if this was fair treatment. I had returned to my home full of high Ideals, only to see them crushed beneath the heal of domestic tyranny.
Necessity is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of slaves.
William Pitt.
How true are these immortal words.
It was with a firm countenance but a sinking heart that I saw Hannah leave the room. I had come home inspired with lofty Ambition, and it had ended thus. Heart-broken, I wandered to the bedside, and let my eyes fall on the Suitcase, the container of all my woe.
Well, I was surprised, all right. It was not and never had been mine. Instead of my blue serge sailor suit and my robe de nuit and kimona etc., it contained a checked gentleman’s suit, a mussed shirt and a cap. At first I was merely astonished. Then a sense of loss overpowered me. I suffered. I was prostrated with grief. Not that I cared a Rap for the clothes I’d lost, being most of them to small and patched here and there. But I had lost the plot of my Play. My Career was gone.
I was undone.
It may be asked what has this Recitle to do with the account of meeting a Celebrity. I reply that it has a great deal to do with it. A bare recitle of a meeting may be News, but it is not Art.
A theme consists of Introduction, Body and Conclusion.