Motion Picture Classic (May 1921 - Dec 1927)

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hear those words. I know I’m hopelessly emotional. If I were to say how often I wept on that wonderful trip, you would imagine I had had a thoroly miserable time. And yet they were all tears of pure joy. And again, when I stole to an orchard I knew, where an old apple-tree used to stand with a swing. I remembered how I used to love the rush of the air as I swung high up in the green twilight, and the big disappointment of my homecoming was to find that the appletree had gone. They discovered me afterwards in the orchard mourning a bit of my childhood that was forever lost. ( Continued on page 80) By ANN FORREST Above and left, two recent portraits of Ann Forrest; and below, Anne stands in her own doorway for the first time in eleven years, when she returned home to Fano, a little island off the coast of Denmark my old teachers, for whom we had always entertained a very hearty respect in our younger days. She had always seemed to me so aloof and severe, that I experienced almost the same sinking of the heart when I stood again in her presence. She had grown a little greyer, and, perhaps, age had somewhat softened that dignity which had struck such awe to my childish soul. She took my hand and kissed me, very much as tho I was still the little girl of the years gone by. “Welcome home, Ann,” she said. “We’re all glad you’ve come back to us again, and we’re very proud of you.” I just broke down and cried. It was so good to ( Sixty-one)