Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1916)

The Glory Road 119 me for meeting vou like this, but you force me to do it. There's something 1 want to a>k vou, and von won't give me a chance. I want yon to lei me come and see you. There's something I have to say that in all fairness you ought to hear, but 1 can't tell you now or any other wav but alone. i— " She interrupted him. "You can't come, Stephen. 'There's nothing for us to say to each other. 1 said all there was to saj in my n >te." "Saul it all!" he cried. "You haven't said anything! Alter that night you send that note saying that everything is over between us. N'ot a word oi explanation, nothing! And vou seem to think I'll take that and he satisfied. Well. 1 won't. I'm g to have some explanation." Her dark serious eyes met his for a moment. "I shouldn't think any explanation would he necessary," she said. "Well, it is. But that isn't all. There's this thing I want to talk to you about — " "Nothing you can say can change things, Stephen." "But good Lord, you can't put me off like this ! Things have gone too far!" His eyes were blazing. "You've got to see me this once. I tell you! Just an hour, a half an hour — anything you say — just so you see me, and alone." I I IS voice had mounted and he was breathinghard. They were approaching Hollywood Boulevard and there were people at the corner, in all probability studio people. In addition to a certain justice in the man's claims, the thought of a possible scene frightened her. She capitulated. "Well ... I will see you," she said. His whole tense body relaxed with relief. "Thank God! . . . When?" She considered a moment. "Tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock in the bungalow for half an hour. Some of the girls are coming at half past three." He groaned. "No longer than that?" "No. And remember," her voice was sharp and clear, "it's for the last time." They were very near the corner now. "Thanks," he said with an attempt at casualness, and lifting his hat turned down the Boulevard. He had gained his point — an opening. XIX /""VU.M A\\d Strong in tin eertaint\ ot tin ^■" course she must follow, June sat in the living room of the bungalow waiting for Holt. Hours of unsparing sell examination had transformed into certain knowledge what she had felt alter his last disastrous visit that, for the salvation of her sell respei t and inner integrity, she must remain true to her engagement with Paul Temple. This without regard to any "mistake" she might make by so binding herself, a "mistake" constantly suggested by her treacherous feelings. Her one need now was to make reparation to Paul, and this she had resolved to do at all costs. Nevertheless, she feared this meeting because she feared the thing in her which Holt could rouse, a lawless, barbaric thing which, even at the mere thought of him, seemed to stir in its uneasy sleep. This was June's first experience with the passion of violence and vehemence, the passion that can inspire infinitely great and infinitely little deeds, and must leave ineffaceable memories. Her experience with Jack Baillie in the North had been of a totally different type — a girlish infatuation on the order of Elaine's infatuation for Romey Stark. But this affair with Holt went to the roots of the instincts rather than to the roots of the heart. Surrounded by all the glamour that Nature can lend to her aims, it promised glowing fulfillment, a fulfillment the thoughts of which blinded to any consideration other than itself, and this, June knew, was her real foe. The living-room was filled with the lucent darkness of shades drawn against bright sun, for the summer had come at last. June was dressed accordingly, but instinct had warned her to unite simplicity with coolness for this interview. She wore a white pique skirt and plain white shirt waist, relieved by a long azure four-in-hand tie. Her shoes were of soft white kidskin with rubber soles and heels. She had dressed her hair low on her head, parting it slightly on one side, so that it fell softly about her face and ears, waving in the Grecian style to a high knot behind. The effect, as always, was to soften and emphasize the girlishness of her features, and to lend depth to her eyes. At five minutes to three she heard steps on the walk and rose with a little pang of