Photoplay (Jan - Jun 1941)

who was the widow of his best friend. Honestly, I don't blame them for thinking what they thought. "But you all must know that Mike Harrigan is as innocent as a man could be. He was kindness itself. The reason I ran away from his lodge that same night was because I didn't want to be 'poison' to still another man's career. But I had to make a mess of that. too. Like a fool, I got lost and fell down the side of a mountain. Mike came looking for me the next morning and brought me to the hospital pretty well smashed up. The papers said it was pneumonia, but I want you all to know before we can be friends again that that wasn't true. The truth is that I lost the baby I was going to have. And through the black days that followed it was Mike who stood by." Annabelle paused for the final plunge. "I owe my life to him. But the Good Samaritan has been handed a beating for his reward. It doesn't seem like the right ending for the parable, does it?" Quick hot tears threatened to choke her and she turned abruptly away. Helga Bentley was the first to rush to Annabelle. "Darling, you were magnificent, even though you made me feel like an oversized worm. And don't worry about your Michael. The press, my dear, is going to work right now to repair the damage!" She kissed Annabelle and bustled off as Clark approached. Holton gazed searchingly at his daughter. Then he took her hands in his. It was like him to ignore any need for an apology and drive straight at the matter on his mind. "You're in love with Mike, aren't you, Baby?" Not for years had he called her by the affectionate term he had used when she was little. Annabelle pressed his hands and nodded mutely. Holton's face grew suddenly tender. "Leave it to your old dad, dear. I'm going to send Mike a wire that he can't refuse to accept." A week later Annabelle stood at the Glendale airport watching the sky for Mike's Waco plane. When she saw it swooping down to a perfect landing, she ran toward it, her heart singing. And when Mike stepped from the plane and held her in his eager arms, kissing her hungrily, she thought, "Dear God. grant that I have learned how to make him happy." If that was true, she knew all the struggle had been worth it. "There's still no dialogue for this scene," he said, "so I'll make it up as I go along! I love you, darling." "The dialogue is perfect, Mike," Annabelle said. "Please never change it." The End. New Kind of Love for Lamour (Continued from page 32) them. After several desperate attempts to save their tottering marriage they were divorced. It is not for an outsider to place the blame, if blame there is, in such an event. We don't know that Herbie was at fault, or Dorothy remiss in her actions. But we do know it came as a brutal shock to Dorothy when Herbie telephoned longdistance one night that he was filing suit for divorce the next morning! From their last talk Dorothy had believed the unhappy situation was on the mend and a solution of their difficulties at hand. The decree was granted two weeks later on April 22, 1939, in a Midwest city. Dorothy's world rocked around her. She was twenty-three and emotionally immature. She had neither home, husband nor the children she wanted. In the public's eye she had been scorned by the man she loved, since it was he who had taken the initiative in the divorce proceedings. Viewed in proper perspective now, Dorothy realizes her love for Herbie was a youthful infatuation. Passionate, yes, but lacking the depth necessary for lasting marriage. Nonetheless, it was real to her then and that meant she was hurt. Deeply hurt. Granted it was her pride, not her heart, which had suffered the blow, still wounded pride is bitter stuff to swallow. On that very day Dorothy started to do what women in the same position have done since the days of Eve. She started to prove to the world — and mostly to herself — that she didn't care, that losing Kay and his love meant nothing to her. For almost two years she lived that lie. She was so determinedly gay it wore one out to watch her. Was there a new night spot? She was there, dancing, laughing, glitteringly happy. Was there new excitement? She was in the thick of it, and cooking up more for the next night. Was there new, mad fun to be found? She searched it out. Like an automaton on a treadmill she kept up the wearying pace. Hey! Hey! for a broken heart! This was the life! Good-time JUNE. 1941 Charlie and night-club queen? You bet! Why not? Inevitably the whirling, crazy life took its toll. Her personality reflected a brittle quality. Her eyes grew hard and a trifle calculating. Unpleasant little lines appeared around her mouth. She became jittery and tense. At any moment, one felt, she would explode like a tightly coiled spring suddenly released. It was the picture of a provocative woman, perhaps, but not a lovely one. In her heart Dorothy knew it. THE playgirl personality attracted men ' to her. Men like fun and Dorothy was fun. Today it was Tom, tomorrow Dick, and the next day Harry who won her favors and interest. Because such dates are grist for the Hollywood news mill, one new "romance" after another was chalked up on her score, one scalp after another credited to her collection. There was the case of Bob Preston which brought two schools of thought into action — Lamour versus Preston or Preston versus Lamour, when the truth of the matter was her sole and innocent intention had been to help him as a friend. There were unrefuted items in gossip columns throughout the country that her heart in turn belonged to Daddies Wynn Rockamora, Cliff Lewis, Bob Ritchie, Stephen Fuld, et al. There was the rhapsodic blathering about a romance with a naval flier stationed in Honolulu after her visit there last spring, and more nonsense about Bob Preston after that. All in all, it added up to an unflattering portrait of a woman — silly, shallow and brainless. The irony of it was this: Despite the heavy cost in personal prestige, despite the loss of former friends, despite the horrible physical weariness and her frantic efforts to assuage it, the old hurt was still there! She had convinced the world the divorce had left no mark upon her, but in her heart she knew the masquerade had been in vain. Then, by the grace of the gods, it happened. Almost overnight a second meta THRILL TO YOUR ' FINGERTIPS 2k.£Uti NAIL POLISH Choose a smart new nail-polish shade to match each mood and each costume . . . now you can afford to! Dr. Ellis' Nail Polish costs so little, yet no polish offers you more. It flows on smoothly and evenly . . . dries to a brilliant, beautiful, lasting finish . . . gives you the widest choice of the season's loveliest tones. Get several shades tomorrow . . . and thrill to your fingertips! Ask for it at your favorite 5 & 10 or drugstore. A companion product of the famous Or. Ellis' Wave Set. Dr. Ellis Sales Co., Inc. Pittsburgh, Pa. 89