It was with this apparently simple question that Arthur Blathwayte rang up the curtain on the drama of my life. That the performance was late in beginning I cannot but admit. I was fully forty-two; an age at which the drama of most men's lives are over--or, at any rate, well on in the third act. But in my uneventful existence there had been no drama at all; not even an ineffective love-affair that could be dignified by the name of a "curtain-raiser."…
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