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LOUIS XV never had more uninterested thoughts of the future than we. What of the stars waiting to be interviewed in 1920 or 1921 ? Have we not just chatted with Elsie Ferguson — for a whole evening — by the gorgeous fireplace of her gorgeous Park Avenue home? Can we ever hope for a greater esthetic thrill ?
Interviews may come and interviews n^ay go, but never will we forget our picture of Miss Ferguson gazing into the crackling flames. The patrician poise, the laughter in her quizzical blue eyes, the saucy tilt of her nose as the flames played upon her beauty, the black velvet evening gown with the one touch of color, a crimson rose.
There were dozens and dozens of roses gracing the grand piano. And, tossed over a chaise-longue, was a rich tapestry purchased that morning — a tapestry of fabulous cost woven with infinite care some four hundred years ago in a dark and gloomy monastery by painstaking monks who little wotted of the movie future.
Miss Ferguson, anent the tape.stry, whimsically admitted her possible extravagance, at least her love of the luxuries of life. “What would life be without
The Patrician of Photoplay
them.'' she asked, with a delicate little s But Miss Ferguson is not a poseure. Unless sibly in her graciou.sness to a mere intervi< At least there is no pose in her directness, expresses her likes and dislikes without tryi gild them, d'here is no aifectation in her ner. She has not forgotten her own struj The delicacy and the fragility of Miss F son’s beauty do not quite prepare one fo cerebric vigor. Miss Ferguson can — and d<
think. And thes
The delicacy and fragility of Miss Ferguson’s beauty do not quite prepare one for her cerebric vigor. Miss Ferguson can — and does — think. And these are not the thoughts of a butterfly, but the mental reactions of a sincere student of humanity
not the thoughts butterfly, but the tal reactions of a cere student of manity.
"The stage dearest my heart that of the little s gler against fat
Ira L; Hill