Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1916)

The Glory Road 117 ami defeat, aspiration and denial. In that moment there seemed concentrated in her the infinite melancholy of all humanity. Hut still something >|>oke from within her and she talked on. Gradually Elaine grew quieter, and the racking sobs came with greater and greater intervals. At last she lifted her pale, wet tare. "1 hate him!" she cried. "I hate all men! I'll never love anybody again. Never I" "No, no!" June said. "You mustn't say that. Don't hate him, tor it wasn't what he did but what you thought, that's brought this. And most things are like that. And now, darling, go home and lie down and rest. You must, you're worn out." Elaine sobbed a moment and then kissed her sweetly. "You're an angel and 1 love you. June." she said, ami when she had made herself presentable, left. But June saw on her childish face a new hard look that sat strangely, pitifully, there, and the fact inexpressibly saddened her. P\URING these days, owing to her work *^ with Briscoe, June had scarcely a moment to herself for thought — a great boon, for she was in a dangerous condition of mind and spirit. The very foundations of her life were trembling. So, under the pitiless flagellations of conscience and the gnawing misery of doubt, she turned gladly to the exhausting sedative of work. ( Outwardly she was a little paler, seemed a little more subdued, as if tired : but to her daily associates she maintained the vivacious and spirited front demanded by her world. She confided in no one, yet Elsie Tanner was not oblivious of the fact that all was not with her as it should be. In the course of two weeks after Holt's visit to the bungalow, June's picture, which had received the tentative title "Anywoman," was practically finished. There were still the final touches to be added before the film could be shown even to the company, but that done, release was a quick matter. In anticipation of this event great preparations were under way. Not only the announcement of a new method in pictures offered immense possibilities for publicity, but the fact that this was June's real screen debut, increased them. For, in bringing her from the North, Briscoe had displayed the better pan of valor, and managed to keep out of print almost all ol her roinantK story. Oi these considerations Terrence Mai Donnell was joyfully aware, and now, being given the word, he "smote his bloomin' lyre" with a heavy hand ; and, as the offspring of lyres is lies, he achieved what even he himself had to admit was in the general direction of a masterpiece. DRISCOE had found himself more and *-* more pleased as the work drew to its conclusion. He had — for reasons unassignable— latterly found a swift and broadening growth in June's art. She was, as it were, more plastic under the fingers of his direction. He could not know that she was emotionally on the hair trigger, doubly responsive to the excitation of which he was so subtle a master. His hope and faith in success grew. "If it's a go it'll be your triumph, June," he said. "I don't care about that," was her reply. "All I want is your success." p\NE day returning to her dressing-room ^^ about noon, she met Stephen Holt in the deserted "street." It seemed premeditated encounter and she was displeased. Why would he not help her in her resolution ? "June, I must speak to you a minute," he said, hurriedly. The calm, assured directness of his gaze was gone. He seemed anxious, driven-looking. "I've told you I can't see you alone, and I sha'n't," she said resolutely, though she smiled to divert the suspicion of any prying eyes at dressing-room windows. "This is the second time you've asked me, and I tell you it's impossible. My note said all there is to say. Can't you respect that?" "No, I can't. It isn't fair, it isn't reasonable ! Are you trying to drive me crazv, June?" "You understand the situation as well as I do, Stephen, and there's no use discussing it," she said, and without waiting for him to reply walked on to her dressing-room. Holt had presence of mind enough not to run after her. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he strolled on, staring at the ground, and then, circling the block of dressing-rooms, made his way back to his office. He flung himself into the chair by