Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +---------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Notes | | | | 1. Where possible, punctuation has been normalized to contemporary | | standards. | | 2. Diacritical marks are as they appeared in the printed book, and | | may not reflect current usage. | | 3. Obvious typographic and spelling errors have been corrected. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------+ [Illustration: Suzette (Renee Adoree) makes the tedious hours of the wounded Sir Nicholas Thormonde (Lew Cody) seem less monotonous. (A scene from Elinor Glyn's production "Man and Maid" for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- MAN AND MAID By ELINOR GLYN A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York Published by arrangement with J. B. Lippincott Company Printed in U.S.A. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY ELINOR GLYN ----------------------------------------------------------------------- MAN AND MAID I February, 1918. I am sick of my life--The war has robbed it of all that a young man can find of joy. I look at my mutilated face before I replace the black patch over the left eye, and I realize that, with my crooked shoulder, and the leg gone from the right knee downwards, that no woman can feel emotion for me again in this world. So be it--I must be a philosopher. Mercifully I have no near relations--Mercifully I am still very rich, mercifully I can buy love when I require it, which under the circumstances, is not often. Why do people write journals? Because human nature is filled with egotism. There is nothing so interesting to oneself as oneself; and journals cannot yawn in one's face, no matter how lengthy the expression of one's feelings may be! A clean white page is a sympathetic thing, waiting there to receive one's impressions! Suzette supped with me, here in my _appartement_ last night--When she had gone I felt a beast. I had found her attractive on Wednesday, and after an excellent lunch, and two Benedictines, I was able to persuade myself that her tenderness and passion were real, and not the result of some thousands of francs,--And then when she left I saw my face in the glass without the patch over the socket, and a profound depression fell upon me.