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Nothing like that could happen to Joan today. She's played too many high— and low— born ladies in too many pictures. Now she'd pick up the shreds, wrap them tightly around her derriere, tie them in a slashing bow, and make an entrance, crying gaily, "How do you like the new stvle? Your butler helped me create it in your front hall!"
And she'd bring the house down.
After Mary Pickford made My Best Girl with Buddy Rogers— a picture which no one except Buddy took seriously— the Fairbankses just sort of drifted apart. Then Doug got to know Lady Sylvia Ashley in London (he never could resist a title), and not too long after that came the sad news of the separation of our king and queen. Nobody wanted it, Douglas least of all. He made a special trip from Europe to patch things up with Mary. Then she turned stubborn.
Man' wanted him to beg, and Douglas bowed the knee to no one. He returned to New York and was moping around, not knowing what to do with himself, when he dined with Bertha and Frank Case. They talked the whole thing over. Doug said Mary insisted on a divorce; he'd tried evervthing; there was no hope of a reconciliation.
Frank said, "Well, that being the situation, why not let her have it? Many Sylvia. If that fails, there's always another divorce court."
Doug said, "I guess you're right. Will you book passage in your name on that ship that's sailing for England tomorrow noon? I'll meet vou at the dock."
Both Frank and Bertha were there to see him off.
At three o'clock that afternoon Frank had a frantic telephone call from young Douglas. "Where's my father?"
"Who wants to know?" asked Frank.
"Mary. She tried to get him on long-distance from six last night until one this morning. She didn't leave her name— too proud— but she's ready for a reconciliation."
Douglas had already been at sea for more than three hours. Mary missed the reconciliation, and Svlvia was married on the rebound to Doug, who happened to be a millionaire movie star.
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