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.'" He jerked a thumb at the manuscript I
had just brought in. "You've got a 'Fact' slip clipped to that one. Are you
trying to tell me it ain't so? Don't you want to get paid?"
Yes, I wanted to be paid. To me the acme of prose style is exemplified by
that simple, graceful clause: "Pay to the order of-" I answered hastily, "Well,
as a matter of fact that story is no problem. I didn't actually know the woman
but my mother told me all about her-it was a girl she had gone to school with.
This girl did indeed marry her mother's younger brother. She was already
pregnant when the truth was discovered... and then she was faced with that
horrible dilemma just as I've told it: the sin of abortion, or the tragedy of an
incest baby with a possibility of two heads and no chin. All fact, Evelyn, but I
trimmed it a bit in telling it. It turned out that Beth Lou was no blood
relation to her uncle-and that's the way I wrote it-but also her baby was no
relation to her husband. That part I left out."
"So write it again and leave that part in and the other part out. Just be
sure to change the names and places; I don't want any complaints."
At a later time I did so and sold that version to him also, but never did
get around to telling Fingerhut that it hadn't happened to a schoolmate of my
mother, but was something I had cribbed from a book belonging to my Aunt Abby:
the librettos of The Ring Cycle by Richard Wagner, who should have stuck to
composing music and found himself a W
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