as
thick as the letters.

Bookseller.
Say fifty, and strike off. Not a cent more.

Poe. Take it.

Hel. To sell my book! (Moves slowly to door) How pale he is!
But he is neatly dressed. He can not need fifty cents. To
sell my book! I'll speak to him and see if he is past
shame. (Steps before Poe as he turns to go out)

Hel. Mr. Poe! Don't you remember me? 'Tis delightful to meet an
old friend.

Poe. (Bowing low) Mrs....

Hel. Yes, I am Mrs. Bridgmore.

Poe. My dear Mrs. Bridgmore! The pleasure of years gathers in
this happy moment. Are you making holiday purchases?

Hel. No ... just poking about. I love these old stores. I see
you've made a sale. 'Tis a relief to get rid of old books
when we've lost our love for them, isn't it? They take up
good room on our shelves pretty much as people do in our
lives long after we have ceased to care for their
friendship. But what one is weary of another is ready to
take up. (To bookseller) May I see the book the gentleman
has just disposed of? (To Poe) Anything you have liked
will be sure to please me.

Poe. O, you are mistaken! I am simply leaving the book to be
duplicated if possible for a friend of mine who has taken
a fancy to my copy. (Gesticulates to bookseller) One
glance, Mrs. Bridgmore, will tell you that the book is not
for sale.

Hel. Ah ... of course not. Pardon the mistake. It seems to be
my fate to blunder where you are concerned. (Icily) Good
morning, Mr. Poe.

(As she is going out she drops her purse. Poe hastens to
pick it up and restores it to her with a bow. In doing so
he forgets his shabby coat and throws back his cloak over
his arm, exposing a badly worn sleeve. He becomes suddenly
conscious of her observation, and straightens up in his
most dignified fashion)

Hel. Thank you. (Goes out)

Poe. (Turning to bookseller) Here! Take your damned silver!
Give me my book!

Bookseller.
A bargain's a bargain, sir.

Poe. Bargain! bargain! Do you call that theft a bargain? You
parasite! you bookgnat! You insect feeding on men's
brains! You worm in the corpse of genius! My book, I say,