Hollywood (1940)

University of Paris returning from her winter vacation in Spain, which was also her first unchaperoned skirmish with the world. Wearing severe tweeds, sensible shoes and a frigid expression that said in all languages, "Touch me not," she cowered in a corner of the Louis-Napoleon, her legs carefully uncrossed, and her eyes riveted on The National Geographic Magazine. Fairly awash in a whirlpool of plutocrats, potentates and malefactors of all stripes and hues, she became aware, as the train flashed through the gathering darkness, of a high-powered personality sending out electrical impulses on her wave-length. Rigid with awe, she somehow lifted her glance to discover that the neighboring supercharged phenomenon was not a snaky Eurasian swami, as she had halfsuspected, but what seemed to her to be the loveliest woman this side of paradise. Practically fainting with relief, the schoolgirl flashed one of her toothiest grins. The apparition from heaven smiled back, and the ice was broken. From there on the mismatched pair were pals, and the career of the fledgling attorney, one Mile. Lya Lys of the Sorbonne, got sidetracked during the course of the journey. Up until the Affair of the LouisNapoleon lounge, Mile. Lys, a Parisienne of German birth and Russian parentage, was dedicated to the Code Napoleon and the civil and provincial ordinances of La Belle France, not because she had any special talent for courtroom bickering, but because her parents had decreed she must pursue a useful profession and become eventually a steel girder in the social structure of the republic. | Lya's father, a preposterously wealthy banker, and her mother, a practicing physician with a vast record of accomplishment, were made of a durable alloy that could not be warped to conform with the plans of a pretty, blond daughter. The daughter, according to their strict continental tenets, was the plastic material around the house, and they were determined to shape her into something useful. At age ten, therefore, Lya was on sparring terms with all the arts, sciences and languages, and at fifteen, scarcely out of the nursery, she was a full-fledged freshman at one of the world's great universities. An imaginative kid with little knowledge of the metropolises in which she had lived and traveled, she staged a quiet rebellion against the tyranny of her parents and teachers, and found her spiritual home in the paper-backed adventure novels sold for a quarter on every newsstand in Europe. Thus, while she was supposed to be drenching herself in the lore of torts and habeas corpuses, she lived in her imagination the life of an inscrutable mystery woman, wheedling her way with perfumed kisses into the hearts of ambassadors, generals and premiers. The encounter in the lounge c^r of the Barcelona express was the materialization of a chapter from her dream world. The lovely lady with the Mona Lisa smile was a friend of Ivar Krueger, the Swedish match king, at that moment one of the most powerful political and financial figures in Europe. She not only was adrip with charm, personality and emeralds but also with ancedotes about her sub-rosa encounters, in Krueger's company, with kings and cabinet members and international scoundrels of all shapes and colors. For the first time the shy little law student got a glimpse behind the tarnished tapestry of post-war big business and an opportunity to perceive the hugely important part played by lovely ladies in the great games of diplomacy, stock exchange raiding and high-minded larceny. As dinner hour approached, Lya's fascinating companion carted her off to the most luxurious stateroom on the train — really a suite, with a complete staff of maid, hairdresser and secretary — and, laying out the lushest dinner dress in her collection, turned the demure damosel over to the expert ministrations of her servants. Thirty minutes later there emerged from the royal suite a devastating blond caricature of an adventuress — Miss Lys, glowing like a marquee with diamonds and sapphires and only faintly recognizable under a layer of extravagantly applied cosmetics. [Continued on page 57] A Make-Up Hint from Max Factor Hollywood: Give your skin a lovely, youthful look with this powder JTIave you sometimes thought your skin looked dull and lifeless ? Then try this famous face powder created in original color harmony shades for each type by Max Factor Hollywood. You'll note an amazing difference in two important ways. 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