" There was an
acidulous resentment in the tone of her answer that indicated that she
wanted her husband to send me away.
"She wants you to go," whispered Langworth, humouring his wife like a
sick child. He escorted me into the storm porch. "You have no idea," he
apologised defensively, "how human a dog can be, or how fond of one you
can become...."
"What's this?" I asked, taken aback. He had thrust a check into my hand
as he shook hands good-bye.
"It's a check I've just endorsed over to you. Royalties on a recent
text-book. Please do take it." I had intimated that I would probably be
compelled to quit college and go on the tramp again ... confessing
frankly, also, that a stationary life got on my nerves at times.
"I want you to keep on, not go back to the tramp life ... we'll make
something of you yet," he jested, diffidently, steering me off when he
noticed that I was about to heap profuse thanks on him.
"How can I ever thank you--"
"By studying hard and making good. By becoming the great poet I wanted
to be."
"But how can I pay this back? It will take a long time--"
"When you arrive at the place where you can afford to pay me back, pass
it on to someone else who is struggling as you are now, and as I myself
have struggled."
* * * * *
Always, always I wrote my poetry and kept studying in my own fashion .
Pages:
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359