would ever love again. But I did not say this; instead, I said the future was uncertain and we must accept whatever came our way. I believe now, as I write these words, I actually thought that a miracle would happen and he would leave his family and come with me.

How can I describe that day? We talked very little after that, enjoyed each other's companionship, lay in the sand, swam in the surf, or took long walks along the beach in search of strange and interesting shells. When at last we were in the car, driving reluctantly back to the theatre, he turned to me with a smile,

"You had better dampen that glow or everyone will know something has happened."

So, we tried to conceal the feeling that lay between us-real and wonderful. When I played Cassius to his Brutus, there was a special meaning in the lines, "Forever and forever farewell, Brutus. If we do meet again we'll smile indeed. If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made." Although there were no more chances for us to be together, he still found opportunities to help me with my acting and also advise me on my relations with the rest of the company. For, I must admit it, I had grown irritable with my friends who, before I met Marvin, were closest to me. Daily he warned me to get control of myself. The season was passing swiftly and I realized that we would part soon and I could not face a future without him. But I was careful not to say this. I knew he would be very angry for hadn't he warned me at the beginning that our relationship could not last? And so I set about to destroy the very thing I valued most. Not satisfied with the warm contact during rehearsals and performances, I began to beg to see him after the show. Always he refused, politely but positively. I was jealous and accused him of idiotic things. Finally, he agreed to see me. I was frantic with impatience the performance that night seemed to last forever. When it was finally over and we were driving along the shore, he began to talk quietly. Now, as I remember the things he said, I am convinced more than ever of the quiet wisdom of his words. But then I would not listen. He talked on, always quiet and concerned, warning me of the dangers of possessiveness, jealousy and indiscretion. But I rejected these things; I told myself that he merely wanted to be rid of me. Again I accused him of terrible things. He was silent now but beginning to grow angry. When I started to tell him how much our relationship meant to me, he interrupted,

"I think you had better take me home now."

When we stopped in front of his cottage, he thanked me sincerely for the good times I had given him. Then he got out of the car and walked away. I called to him. to come back but he did not hear me.

I don't know how I finished that season but it finally ended and I came on to New York. I received one card from Marvin since that summer, a Christmas card signed by his wife, son and himself. It had no return address.

The rain had stopped by the time we reached the island and as I drove to the theatre the tires sang on the steaming pavement. The costumer was there when I arrived. It seemed only yesterday that I had said good-bye to her, happy to be leaving the site of so much heartache and now, only a few short years later, I was delighted to be back. She welcomed me warmly but we were both careful not to mention his name as we talked about the past.

That night as I stood in the wings watching the performance, a young man came over and introduced himself.

"My name is Steve. I don't suppose you remember me but I was an apprentice when you were here before."

one