In the Martels' living-room
all the chairs were rockers; so, in fact, were the table and the sofa,
owing to missing castors.
"I am going to talk to you quite confidentially," began Mr. Martel,
giving himself up to the enjoyment of the hour. "I am going to tell you
of a new and fascinating adventure upon which I am about to embark. You
have doubtless heard me speak of a very wealthy and talented young friend
of mine--Mr. Harold Phipps?"
Quin admitted without enthusiasm that he had, and that he also knew him.
"Well, Mr. Phipps,--or Captain, as you probably know him,--after a short
medical career has found it so totally distasteful that he is wisely
returning to an earlier love. As soon as he gets out of the army he and I
are going to collaborate on a play. Of course I have technic at my
finger-tips. Construction, dramatic suspense, climax are second nature to
me. But I confess I have a fatal handicap, one that has doubtless cost me
my place at the head of American dramatists to-day. I have never been
able to achieve colloquial dialogue! My style is too finished, you
understand, my diction too perfect. Manager after manager has been on the
verge of accepting a play, and been deterred solely on account of this
too literary quality.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107