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114
Photoplay Magazine
he gets. The elder Mrs. Wharton has a daughter of her own, by another marriage ; she,, in her mother's eye, was to have been Wharton's mate — not lovely but outland Florence. So Mrs. Wharton, with the cold blooded deviltry which only a smug and smirking woman of fifty seems able to acquire, inserts the invisible wedge that splits the home. Circumstance rises upon circumstance until the pinnacle of divorce is reached, and Florence actually marries Lorenz, and lives many months with him. Here the little play touches its truest form, and in the wretchedness of the mesalliance, and the loneliness of the broken home, is something very close to Zolaesque realism. The plot of Mrs. Wharton comes to the nuptial point with her daughter and Wharton, but it does not go through. Lorenz, sanctified rather than blackened by his pitifully unrequited love Tor the wife who never ceased being his friend's wife, lias battled every foot of his losing way. He lias given Florence a much bigger love than
Hamilton Revelle and Marguerite Snow in " The Half-Million Bribe. "
she ever knew before, probably a tenderer love than any save her child's, and he has been driven to the very brink of his cliff of life. The cliff in this instance is the French window of a New York apartment, hundreds of feet above the street. When Lorenz steps through this window and closes his book of sorrow in one downward plunge it is as breath-taking an instant as any photoplay has vouchsafed this year.
The delectable fiction of the mother who steals into her husband's house every night to see her baby is brought out. dusted, and screwed into place, yet notwithstanding several pieces of such antiquated dramatic machinery this play is a work of striking sincerity.
Harry Morey as Lorenz gets your sympathy, not your condemnation, whether you approve or not. The unexpectedness of life is shown in his planning, an hour before his suicide, a trip to Europe. His bursts of futile passion, crushing his unresisting but unresponsive wife to his heart;