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d so the lending goes on so long as the covers hold together. Meanwhile the writer, away off somewhere waiting and hoping and watching the sale, in return for the pleasure he gives John and Charley and Phil and Dick and Sam and the rest, and in consideration of that year of work and weariness and struggle, gets enough perhaps to buy a meal at a Chinese restaurant. This is appreciation, I say, enlightened twentieth century appreciation; and the beauty of it is that every one of that company who get his work for nothing feel that by their praise and by reading his work they've given that writer, who can't possibly know anything about it, all that he could possibly desire." For the first time that evening Armstrong paused to laugh. "Oh, it's humorous, all right, when one stops to consider and appreciate! Just suppose, though, in the name of fair play, some one had suggested to John that he throw that copy of his in the furnace where no one could possibly borrow it, and then go on telling his appreciation. Just supposing some one had suggested that! Do you fancy John would have considered that person wholly sane? And still that writer, besides being an artist, is an animal with a stomach and needs a home to live in, and maybe is human enough to have burdened himself with a wife and--and children--" "Steve, confound it, you've gone on long enough." "I know it--too long." "It doesn't do any good to rail at something you can't help, that no one can help." "Admitted. I'm just talking to myself--and you. It's all the same." "You've never starved yet or gone without clothes, so far as I know." "Starved, no. I had soup at my boarding-house for lunch again to-day--soup with carrots in it. Hungry--I don't know. This is a big world we're in and I've never had the chance even to look over the horizon yet. Hungry? I've been hungry for--Elice for years, and I don't dare--Hunger is awfully near to starvation sometimes, friend Harry." Harry Randall squirmed. He saw it coming--it! "Oh, things will come all right if you'll be patient," he said--and halted himself for the trite optimism. "Elice won't; for she's gone already while I've been patient--gone and left me hungry." "Nonsense. Rot, plain rot!" "No, reality, plain reality. She probably wouldn't admit it yet, not even to herself, maybe doesn't know it yet herself; but I know. It's been coming on a long time. I see it all now." Randall made a wry face. That wa
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