Modern Screen (Dec 1938 - Nov 1939 (assorted issues))

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See the time Andrea has on her hands? It's the latest in watches. that she must go through all her youth, all her life, unsightly in the eyes of men, her career ended before it had fairly begun. Surely something pretty strong was forged out of that frightful ordeal. It was from that holocaust that she went to Mack Sennett. "Get her over to Sennett's," a friend advised her mother. "They care more for figures than for faces over there, anyway, and she'll forget herself in the middle of that mad bunch. She'll find her stride again." She did. She hit the stride of laughter, of doing the Charleston at the Hotel Ambassador on merry-making evenings, of cutting capers, playing jokes. There's nothing the matter with a girl who can take disaster with a custard-pie caper, is there now? THEN, too, Lombard is a fuss-budget. It takes time to be fussy. When she travels, for instance, Fieldsie says that "she is so neat about everything that it's just like being at home." When on a train, for instance, she always spreads dainty, crepe de chine blanket covers over the Pullman berths, "so the place will look homey and attractive," she says. That's all right. That's fastidious and charming. But that isn't all. Oh, by no means. For Carole also has every article of wearing apparel packed (she does her own packing) in the most painfully systematic fashion. At any hour of the day or night she can "lay hands," to anything she may happen to want. If a travelling companion has a migraine, a tummy ache, a fit, Doc Lombard is right there with the proper remedy. On a recent trip by plane two of the passengers got air-sick. Before the hostess could get to them, Lombard was there with the proper first aid. There is the gypsy in Lombard, too, of course. But it's a nice, capable gypsy who keeps her earrings, bandanna and stiletto in applepie order. She's the same about everything. When she plays tennis, she not only wears the proper tennis dress and shoes, but she also has the right-weight coat handy to fling over her shoulders when the game is done. She always has an extra pair of shoes along so that, if her feet hurt, she can change. When she goes duck-shooting with Clark and the Andy Devines — this duck-shooting quartette is now so familiar to the ducks that they call them by their first names before they die — Carole is equipped. Not in "what-thewell dressed duck shooter will wear" type of thing, but in old cords and a shapeless sweater. For Carole doesn't ride, shoot ducks and hunt quail in order to be Gable's shadow — when Gable can't go, Carole goes alone. She has her own shot, and plenty of it. She has her bags for her own ducks. She is equipped with all the first aid remedies which might be required in case of any casualty. When she goes hunting with Gable, Carole is no delicate doll lopping on Gable's broad shoulder. Not if he knows it, or she, either. She draws a bead on her own bird — and what a shot she is! She even wades hip-high into the marshes to retrieve her own birds. Gable has made it plain to her that he will not act as retriever for her birds, not he. And Lombard, you can be sure, would not have it otherwise. When she and Gable shoot at the same bird there is a rough and tumble brawl as to whose bird it is, whose shot brought it down. And Gable admits that he doesn't always get the best of the scrimmage. And then, when the day's shooting is done, it's Lombard who is on hand with steaming coffee, drinks, hot food, whatever the hunters require. Carole is the one who comes prepared with extra blankets, cords and shirts for those not so far-sighted as she. Lombard, her friends tell me, has a splendid sense of balance about everything. Furiously energetic, she always rises at seven. No breakfast trays in bed for Mrs. Gable. But she also goes to bed early nights. Neither she nor Gable care for night life and so don't have any to speak of. Their tastes, their likes and dislikes are so genuinely mutual that it's like something made to order, the mating of these two. SHE doesn't diet, not Lombard. She doesn't have to 'cause she "eats right," her friends will tell you. For instance, if she has a heavy dinner one night, she will eat a light breakfast the next morning. If she goes to bed on a light dinner, she will have bacon, eggs, toast, all the fixin's the next morning. This balance prevails in everything she does. If she hasn't played tennis for some time, she is careful to play only one or two sets when she begins again. She doesn't overdo anything. Under her seeming levity and lightness there is a substratum of common sense as hard and dependable as the Rock of Gibraltar. She is, further, a punctilious housekeeper. The Gables live well but, when eight pounds of butter are used one week as against seven pounds the week