Photoplay (Jan 1921)

Photoplay Magazine 52 "Will you ever learn not to interrupt! Johnny pretty near made you walk home one night for being as fresh as that. What I mean is — you poor, ignorant, uneddicated female — that the Queen of Sheba was a heavy vamp. At the present writing. I'm only in the middle-weight class and I'm after the heavyweight crown. I'm fighting out of my class. And believe me, all the deceiving I do in this picture will be done with the make-up box! "They sent for me one day to tell me some of the costumes were ready. I went over and waited around a while. Pretty soon I said to the wardrobe mistress, 'Where is it?' 'Then she showed me a real cute little lamp-shade with a few beads on it that had been lying on the table all the time. •' What's that?' says I. " 'That's your first costume,' says she. "When I came to she was trying to decide where she could put a hook without having it show." Betty paused to wipe away a tear. "But then, I started in the chorus. It was the only place anybody would let me start. The first day they made u= rehearse in a bathing suit — split up one among the company, I think. Then they took our pictures. You know I was a nice girl — well, I was — but if you're going to do a thing, be game, and I needed that job. They published the picture, too, and that old cat Mrs. Van der Water spotted me and called up Tommie and said 'My dear boy, I hope at last you see the folly of your ways.' And Tommie came right back and said, T see a lot, Mrs.' Van de Water, but I'd hardly call it folly!' ' Betty doubled with laughter. "And I've had a pretty hard time getting near the top in pictures. I've worked awfully hard, truly I have," her voice was suddenly deeply earnest, "I — I really have a few ideals about it, you know. "Say, who's paying for this lunch?"' "Well, it's a cinch I'm not," said I coldly, "I would like to see the day when I pay for lunch for a movie actress, old eirL" , „ • "I'm not such a good actress you need to get nasty, saict Betty. "How's your husband?" I asked. Betty's beautiful face — and she is beautiful, with those great pansy eyes, the perfect nose and mouth, and her skin iike pussy willow satin — took on a dreamily adoring expression. What did I ever do to get him? How was I lucky enough to find him? How did I ever have sense enough to take him? When I think about him I want to get right down here in the tea-room and thank God for — " "Don't," I begged hastily, "I know you've only been married three months, but even then it's bad form." "He's wonderful. He's so good to me. And so generous. We've been looking at houses. He's the best man in the world. He—" "I know him, I know him," I said. "He's a fine man. Paul Scardon is a nice chap and a good director. But at that I fail to see anything that reminds me of the angel Gabriel." "That's because you've got no vision, you cynical old Sinn Feiner," said my hostess. (She had paid the luncheon check by this time.) "All right, stepmother," said I, viciously. "Married only four months and got a daughter seven years old! Mrs. Van der Water was right." "My dear, if the man that wrote Cinderella had seen me first, one of the world's greatest masterpieces would have been ' missing. I am a positive jewel of a stepmother. And Joan i? the sweetest kid." "All right," I murmured, "Come on. let's go." "Ye gods, what about the interview?" she demanded. "Oh, never mind," I said loftily, "I can make it up. I often do. Or I might tell the truth."' "You never have yet," said Betty, "I shan't worry." But I have. Though it is only fair to say that I went back to the studio with her and before my eyes saw her transformed into a glorious, majestic, vivid conception of that famous Biblical "lady, the Queen of Sheba, I was near falling on my nose before her myself. And Betty has that gift that exceedingly clean-minded, bighearted women sometimes have — the gift of ignoring the revelation her costumes make, a gift that I think is going to make her Sheba something infinitely finer than anyone expects. She stood gazing at the gorgeous things she is to wear — heaps of pearls, brilliants, gold and silver tissues, rich embroideries, glistening beads, silks, velvets, brocades and satins. "Twenty-eight costumes," she murmured, "and if I put 'em all on at once I couldn't keep warm! But anyway, I love her." SILHOUETTES Alia Nazimova MOONLIGHT in a rosegarden by the sea. A maiden in a cambric frock. The song of a nightingale from far off . . And a lover waiting by the gate. Gloria Swanson CRIMSON plush and yellow satin. A poniard of hammered steel. A teakwood cabinet. A burning candle. . . And the subtle scent of patchouli ! Constance Talmadge A SQUARE room with gray walls. A table upon which a bronze samovar is steaming. A lacquered screen. . . The music of a harp upon whose strings a madrigal is played.