POET AND PRESENT.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 142, 17 June 1936, Page 22

POET AND PRESENT.

CHAMPNEY was browsing among the book shops in Charing Cross Road. A staid, studious youngish man, he spent much of his spare time fossicking for the treasurer still to be fouirl by the knowledgeable seeker in that literary dump. As he sidled along one of the stalls, a title caught his eye and stirred his memory. It was a collection of rather imaginative verse by a woman writer of popularity, if not a genius. Reminded of a romantic passage in his life some live years previously, Champney plucked the volume from its place. He ejaculated with surprise when, on opening it, he saw 011 the flyleaf the inscription written in his own neat caligrajihy: — "Joyce, "With love, from Frank, "August, 1930." He began to turn the gilt-edged pages, pausing here and there to read some little poem that was familiar to him because of its association with Joyce Yeheync. One recalled a perfect evening on tlw pier at Briglitsea beneath a silvery moon beaming across the rippling waters of the Channel. Another—a picnic for two on the downs.

CSHOKT STORY.)

(By LYNN DACRE.)

"Well, I may be able to assist you," the other interposed. "I do not promise anything mind. Give me a few minutes while I make inquiries." Taking the book with him, he shuffled oIT to the back of the premises. He came back in a few minutes beaming, and laid the book on the counter. "You're in luck," he said. "I find that the volume of poetry was included in a pared of books —novels chiefly that I bought two months ago from some people who were moving." "Moving, eh!" Champney's face fell; then brightened again as an idea flashed into his head. "If you have the address I might be able to' trace them." "I have," the other smiled. "Here it is, written down for you," he added, giving Champney a slip of notepaper. Charnpney thanked the shopkeeper for his courtesy, reddening uncomfortably when the latter chuckled and wished hint the best of luck. Leaving the old man to enjoy his jest, he hurried off to the address, which was a block of flats off Southampton Row. Fortune continued to favour him; the Veheynes had left their new address with the porter, so that letters might be forwarded.