Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1921)

Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section The Lost Romance 105 (Continued) Before she could speak Allen startled at something he saw in the paper. He looked up suddenly and discovering Aunt Betty there demanded her attention for the paper too. Together they leaned over an article that told of the return of Mark, gone for more than five years in the wilds of the Upper Amazon forests of South America. They read it eagerly together in real joy. The article ended, there came a pause. Allen sighed. "Mark's life must be one glorious adventure of Romance." "Come, cheer up." Aunt Betty was chiding. "Everyone's life could be if they only wouldn't forget. Now you didn't read the paper when she was in the garden six years ago." Allen looked up at Aunt Betty and groaned. "Now go out to her — like a good boy." Aunt Betty was compelling. Allen rose, doggedly straightening his collar and smoothing his hair as he went out. Left alone, Aunt Betty picked up the paper again and hungrily reread the account of Mark's return, her heart reaching out to him. As Allen stepped into the garden Sylvia was swept by a little nervous anticipation. She tried to make herself ready, tried to feel the zest and interest and coquetry that she had felt on that same spot there six years before. She took a dreamy attitude, a delicious thrill coming over her. Allen came up and stood behind her, saying nothing. Sylvia sat still, her heart beating with anticipation. What was he going to surprise her with? She was eager to know. She waited. Nothing happened. Slowly she turned around. Allen was standing there winding his watch. He covered a yawn with his hand and sat down beside her. Sylvia struggled to hide her disappointment. She raised the rose in her hand to her face, passing it over her lips. Allen frowned down at her. "I wouldn't keep inhaling that thing — they're apt to give you hay fever this time of the year." Romance was crushed. Sylvia started plucking the rose to bits. At the front entrance and out of sight from the garden, John, the butler, greeted a visitor, who stopped finger on lip, cautioning the old servant to silence. It was Mark Sheridan, the long wandering adventurer and explorer. "Where is Elizabeth — let me surprise her." John indicated he living room and Mark strode in. At the door Mark saw Aunt Betty sitting on a couch with the paper in her lap. He tiptoed in behind her and softly pulling a rose from the vase 0.1 the adjacent table, silently he reached over and strew the paper in her lap with rose petals. That was the touch of Romance. Aunt Betty looked up in surprise and a great glowing smile of radiance dawned in her eyes as she recognized Mark. "Am I welcome — dear Lady of the Roses? " Aunt Betty stood up and faced him, longing to say all that was in her heart. "Yes — Mark — yes." He leaned over and kissed her hand. " You are all right, Mark?" "Yes, indeed." Out in the garden sat Allen and Sylvia. Sylvia was trying her best to revive the old mood of the lost romance of six years agone. "Just think, Allen — this is the very place where we became engaged!" Allen nodded but made no response. Tears welled into Sylvia's eyes. Allen looked at her curiously and 1 hen with an air that had resignation and effort in it but no poetry, he put his arm about her. He drew Sylvia closer. She looked into his eyes in surprise. Then she cuddled up closer. "Damn it !" Allen snatched away his hand and clutched at a finger. "Don't you know enough to take the pins out of your dress? " Then both of them were more miserable than ever. It seemed hopeless. They sat together dull and still. Allen shifted about uncomfortably and looked toward the house. "It's as chilly and damp as a graveyard here — let's go in the house." "Oh " Sylvia's voice was an utterance of despair. She rose with a toss of her head and started in. Allen followed. Together they entered the living room where Mark and Aunt Betty rose by the lounge to greet them. Allen called out joyously. Sylvia stood bewildered. Allen and Mark shook hands effusively. Sylvia stood back breathless — looking toward Mark. Slowly, awed, they approached each other. Mark took Sylvia's two hands. "I hope," he said slowly, "that the happiness of these years has been as great as you could have desired." Sylvia's eyes faltered, but she offered a brave smile with her "Yes." Mark saw the truth. Aunt Betty, ever a diplomat, called to them to come and sit down. Allen took a cigarette from Mark's proffered case and presently the party was listening while Mark talked of his many adventures in the wilds of the Amazon. Sylvia sat a little apart, absorbed in listening, not to the tales he told but just to Mark. There was a faraway, fascinated look in her eyes. She idly twisted a corner of her handkerchief. Mark, looking up in a lull, caught her eyes and she flushed in betrayal of her mood. Mark understood it all too well. H2 resumed his story in a forced lighter vein that was far from convincing. Allen pinched at his cigarette until it broke. There was a sense of tenseness over them all. Days passed and the situation did not change. Mark and Sylvia, outwardly calm, were both living again tumultuously in their hearts the romance that had ended those years ago — and trying to deafen their ears to the ww call of the now. It was late in the afternoon of the closing days of their visit that Aunt Betty came upon Sylvia playing the piano alone, with a photograph of Mark on the music rack before her. Sylvia looked up. "You've been wonderful to us — but it is no use, Aunt Betty. We haven't found what we came for a ";d we had better go home." Aunt Betty's eyes took in Sylvia, who looked wistfully at the picture of Mark before her on the piano. " I am sorry — but perhaps it is better, my dear." Aunt Betty was depressed. She had all but given up. She went out to leave Sylvia with her thoughts. It was there that Mark found Sylvia, a fateful circumstance. It was a moment inspired of dangerous destiny. Alark stood looking gloomily at Sylvia. She read his mood and ventured to speak. It was not as though she were addressing him, but rather unconsciously giving audible expression to her thoughts. " Does romance ever come true for more than a short year or two?" Then realizing that she had said too much Sylvia looked away in embarrassment. "If I could only prove to you that it Jieauty and LAjecomingness ofHjour^lair depend largely on just three things — the result of the shampoo, the effect of the waving and the protection of the net. WEST Hair Nets Three Brands Beach and Motor 15c Tourist, 3 for 50c Gold Seal, 25c Gray and White — Double Price 10c Package SOFTEX SHAMPOO ELECTRIC HAIR CURLERS HUMAN HAIR NETS Provide these three requisites to a phasing and perfect coiffure. 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