Talking Screen (Jan-Aug 1930)

whose name, in pre-HolIywood days, had been Robina Jochim. Braylen Manor was Connjc s hard luck bivouai.. When slie had first come co Hollywood she had lived there. Then, with a few very small and unimportant parts in some of Clemmant's pictures to her credit, she had moved to better quarters. Now she was back. The answer was the talkies — and Karg. She paced up and down the cramped, shoddy room, and was whirled this way and that by the sick stream of her thoughts. The old, old struggle. The old, old problem to be answered. Be nice to Karg, or else . . . THE door was opened with an luipccuous swish, and Bobby danced into the room. "It's me!" she proclaimed, striking a pose. "Little Bobby Joy in person. Future queen of the screen, star of stars and vamp of vamps! I'm on the royal road, Connie. Nothing can stop me now!" Connie gazed somberly at her, remarking a hardness in the blue of her eyes, a recklessness in the set of her soft red lips that had not been there a few months ago. "So you got the part?" she asked quietly. "Yep. I got it. They start shooting Monday. Haven't you had lunch yet ? No wonder you look kinda low ! Come on, and we'll throw a meal together." The meal consisted of cold hamburger steak, milk from wluch the top had been carefully skimmed for coffee, and the heel of a loaf of . bread. Bobby sniffed at it. "This's the last time I'll ever have to eat such fodder," she said. "And I'm moving out of this dump right after lunch," she added, glancing disparagingly around at the room. Connie said nothing. She felt like protesting. If she couldn't get some one to take Bobby's place she would be left to carry the whole of the rent till the end of the month. But she knew that an objection would come to nothing; it was not Bobby's habit to consider others. DID you land anything?" Bobby mumbled through a mouthful of steak and bread. "No," .said Connie, her lovely dark eyes clouding. "Too bad. Who'd you see?" "Karg again. ' "Karg?" Bobbys blue eyes opened very widely. "And you didn't get anything? Why, you could — " Connie held up her hand in a pleading gesture. "Don't Bobby," she said. "I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it. Not now. I'm too blue, too desperate — " But Bobby rushed along regardless. "Don't you think it's about time you quit being so balmy? Karg! For the luvvamike! He's for you like a kid for a new red sled. Give him one little word and he'd — " "You know what that one little word would mean." Connie's delicate hps were quivering. For just an instant an extra tide of pink crept into Bobby's cheeks. Her eyes dropped. Then they swept up again defiantly to meet Connie's. "Of course I know what it means. I ought to! Didn't I just get a part from Warring? And isn't 'Warring exactly like Karg where girls are concerned? But what of it. This is 1930, not 1890. A girl today can't afford to throw down a swell chance because there's a few strings on it. Nobody cares any more what you do — " But again her eyes faltered, and her words trailed off into silence as she followed the meaning of Connie's involuntary gaze. lN the dresser, a few feet away, was a picture. It was an enlarged photograph of a gray-haired woman with old-fashioned gold rimmed spectacles and a plain but .somehow beautiful face. Written across the bottom were the words, "To my own Connie, from her Mother." Beside this was a smaller picture. This was just a snapshot. It was of a young man with a nose too large for the rest of his square, attractive face, and with hair that apparently could not be brushed smooth. On this was simply the in.scription, "Yours, John ". "Even in this modern day," said Connie gravely, "There 37