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Audie was her
first love, her lost love,
and the scar
was deep. But now
Wanda knows that someday,
i
someone else will come to claim her . . .
■ She had probably never said it before to anyone, but she said it right out, without prompting or probing. "I'm not in love. Not anymore. But I want to be. I will be. I can be — ^now."
Ver\' tiny, elfin, like an animated piece of Dresden, Wanda Hendrix sat across from your Modern Screen reporter and said for the record that the last flicker of her love for Audie Murphy had died. If there was any emotion in her voice it was one of simple regret. Her manner was candid, and there was no roar of tumbling bulwarks as the admission was made that a marriage which had captured the romantic imagination of the world had failed, and that the institution has suffered.
Yes, the institution of marriage has suffered, because when a lovely young actress marries a boy who might well go down in American histor>' as the greatest warrior of them all, we steep ourselves in the beauty of their love. When their dreams are revealed as clay, so are ours by reflection; and when their marriage words prove as sacred as evidence in a trafl&c court, a bit of our world crumbles.
A report is in order. The. prelude to Wanda's love, which was secret in the time of its existence, must be played again and viewed in retrospect, for we are all interested parties.
A question to Miss Hendrix; "When did you first love Audie Murphy?" (^Continued (yn page 63)