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Oh, Im a lunger, Brissenden announced, offhand, a little later, having already stated that he came from Arizona. Ive been down there a couple of years living on the climate. Arent you afraid to venture it up in this climate? Afraid? There was no special emphasis of his repetition of Martins word. But Martin saw in that ascetic face the advertisement that there was nothing of which it was afraid. The eyes had narrowed till they were eagle- like, and Martin almost caught his breath as he noted the eagle beak with its dilated nostrils, defiant, assertive, aggressive. Magnificent, was what he commented to himself, his blood thrilling at the sight. Aloud, he quoted:- You like Henley, Brissenden said, his expression changing swiftly to large graciousness and tenderness. Of course, I couldnt have expected anything else of you. Ah, Henley! A brave soul. He stands out among contemporary rhymesters magazine rhymesters as a gladiator stands out in the midst of a band of eunuchs. You dont like the magazines, Martin softly impeached. Do you? was snarled back at him so savagely as to startle him. I I write, or, rather, try to write, for the magazines, Martin faltered. Thats better, was the mollified rejoinder. You try to write, but you dont succeed. I respect and admire your failure. I know what you write. I can see it with half an eye, and theres one ingredient in it that shuts it out of the magazines. Its guts, and magazines have no use for that particular commodity. What they want is wish-wash and slush, and God knows they get it, but not from you. Im not above hack-work, Martin contended. On the contrary Brissenden paused and ran an insolent eye over Martins objective poverty, passing from the well-worn tie and the saw-edged collar to the shiny sleeves of the coat and on to the slight fray of one cuff, winding up and dwelling upon Martins sunken cheeks. On the contrary, hack-work is above you, so far above you that you can never hope to rise to it. Why, man, I could insult you by asking you to have something to eat. Martin felt the heat in his face of the involuntary blood, and Brissenden laughed triumphantly. A full man is not insulted by such an invitation, he concluded. You are a devil, Martin cried irritably. Anyway, I didnt ask you. You didnt dare. Oh, I dont know about that. I invite you now. Brissenden half rose from his chair as he spoke, as if with the intention of departing to the restaurant forthwith. Martins fists were tight-clenched, and his blood was drumming in his temples. |
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