THE LOG OF THE "JOLLY POLLY"
Temptation came to me when I was in the worst possible position to
resist it.
It is a way temptation has. Whenever I swear off drinking
invariably I am invited to an ushers' dinner. Whenever I am rich,
only the highbrow publications that pay the least, want my work.
But the moment I am poverty-stricken the MANICURE GIRL'S MAGAZINE
and the ROT AND SPOT WEEKLY spring at me with offers of a dollar a
word. Temptation always is on the job. When I am down and out
temptation always is up and at me.
When first the Farrells tempted me my vogue had departed. On my
name and "past performances" I could still dispose of what I wrote,
but only to magazines that were just starting. The others knew I no
longer was a best-seller. All the real editors knew it. So did the
theatrical managers.
My books and plays had flourished in the dark age of the
historical-romantic novel. My heroes wore gauntlets and long
swords. They fought for the Cardinal or the King, and each
loved a high-born demoiselle who was a ward of the King or the
Cardinal, and with feminine perversity, always of whichever one her
young man was fighting. With people who had never read Guizot's
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