Motion Picture Magazine (Feb-Jul 1919)

(T^MOTi MAGAZINE » Tea for Two (Continued from page 47) of the work her friends had been doing over here and over there, she talked of everything, she talked of every one, she would not talk of herself. I finally descended the scale of being original and resorted to nude queries. I elicited that she does not like the movies for the sane and reasonable reason that she had to work too, too hard and does not feel that she ever "got anywhere." She blames, I believe, the scenarists, largely. She thought she had never been with the right companies. She felt she had never been "pushed." All in all, when some manager 'phoned her and asked her to be in "The Woman in Room Thirteen," she accepted without so much as ascertaining whether she was to be a maid or a mistress. At the time of this writing she is playing her ambiguous role in New York. We drank tea and I glanced about me. I liked what I saw. There was more reticence — gray rugs, long, vague gray velours at the wide windows facing the park, a small organ, (which she plays), deep chairs, two quaint, old-gold tables, one on either side of the fireplace, tall candlesticks, a daguerrotype of Kanes past and gone on the walls. Opening off was her boudoir, a tiny miracle of ivory and blue, with dull rose lights and a delicate spindle dressing-table. We talked about men, of course. Gail admitted to being fickle. Says she cant seem to help it. There was a man ... he went overseas . . . for a while . . . well, you know . . . and then . . . it's always just that way. "Men and work dont go very well together," mused Gail over the tea-things. "One has to take them separately, I think. One is jealous of the other, and, of course, jealousy is a form of destruction. I dont believe they are ever reconcilable — a man and a woman's work. I get fits of gaiety ... I suppose' I'm an extremist. I go out madly for a fortnight, every night, to theaters and restaurants, dance my head off, flirt prodigiously ; then I have a change of heart and go to bed every night at nine o'clock for another fortnight. During this one I darn all my stockings and am frightfully virtuous and domestic. I love this location . . . I've lived here almost all my life, it seems. I like to watch the kiddies skating in the park, and the lights winking out and all that. Mother has sort of a separate little apartment in the back and this is mine." As I was leaving Miss Kane put her finger to her lip and laughed. "I dont want mother to hear," she said, "but the frivolous fortnight is coming on . . . I've got to run and prink." Gail Kane is the American girl. She is the sort who drives an ambulance in a spiffy uniform. She is the girl to whom the nice young man sends beribboned Page and Shaws, orchids and new books. She is the jolly American girl noted for her athleticism of body and mind, with the backbone of the hereditary Puritan and the spice of the modern dilettante. She is a four-squarer. A certain player, whose name we will not mention, has a wife who plays the guitar. One evening recently while in a poetic mood, she took up her instrument and, strumming a few chords, began to sing, "I'll Strike Again My Tuneful Lyre." Her husband made a dive for the door, saying, "Not if I know it, you wont !" ifluniuiriHHUumiii uniininnujyw 0 gj and h ei -es the lah el" Co rive BV.D.Cc MAAM^^K^^r»ITimTTTu^ll^lMlfIU,^n|||l|^Ll)lj|^)|i|^aj^rr1MpTnrniT «BZ asms Ask your wi/SAow long BYD. wears! f She checks ihe laundry I B.V. D. quality can only be obtained in B.V.D. Underwear MADE FOR THE If it hasn't this .Red Woven Label B.YD Underwear JESTRETAJILJ^DE. (TmdeMnrkR&lfSBitO£andForei9iQ>mtTi«!) THE B.V.D. COMPANY Cop!/r/.is/itUSA.I917by The BVD.Company NEW YORK B. V. D. Coat Cut Undershirts and K n e e Length Drawers, $1.00 the Garment. B. V. D. Sleeveless Closed Crotch Union Suits (Pat. U. S. A.) $1.75 the Suit. Remember, all Athletic Underwear is not B.V.D. CopyriontUSAISI/bn The BVUCompany 105