Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1920)

Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section The Truth ( Contin begun telling those miserable little fibs. If I had only told Tom all about it from the bei;inning," she mourned. "I will never tell a lie again." But habic, as it has been so often said, is a chain that binds us fast. Becky had no sooner made this oath, which gave her a certain amount of righteous feeling, than she began to cast around in her mind for a way to get out of this terrible situation. She thought of Fred. He must help her. He was more at fault than she. In a few minutes a note was on its way to his home. "If this note reaches you at once please come over. I don"t think Tom will be here before six. Important. '•Becky." The messenger had hardly gone, when Becky's father, jovial, flashily and nattily attired, with the air of a gentleman with no responsibilities in the world, arrived. ■'Well, little daughter," said he, kissing her affectionately and tweeking her checks, "aren't you surprised at my arrival? Mix me up a little old whiskey and soda, my dear, and I'll tell you what it's all about." Becky went to the cellarette. Mr. Roland drank his drink, smacked his lips, then chuckled. "My dear, it was a great joke on me. I meant to ask for five hundred — not fifty, though I appreciate the fifty." "Five hundred more," Becky gasped. "Tom would only let me have fifty, father. He said to send it to you with his love. I'm sure he can't let you have any more just now." The florid features of Mr. Roland flushed redder. Becky did not ask him to sit down, but he did so, with quite a hea\-y sigh. "It's a question of five hundred or a newMrs. Roland," he said. Becky started. "Father, you can't possibly owe your landlady that much money?"' "Yes; haven't paid her for two years." Becky's father settled himself, as if for the afternoon. "I wish I could ask you to stay for the afternoon." Becky said nervously, "but, you see — I — I — am to meet a girl friend." Mr. Roland save no outward expression of any intention to understand Becky's hint. Becky became more and more nervous every minute. What if Fred should come ! "I've got time to drive you to her house if it's not far," he said at last. It made no difference to him that a taxi was waiting outside clicking up a bill that Tom Warder's money would have to settle. Becky shook her head. "I'll get there all right. You stay here,'' and as she went out her father settled himself in more comfort on the couch. Becky ran lightly down to the corner and stationed herself behind a hedge, where she cou!d look up and down the street, and at the same time not be seen from the house. She would stop Fred Lindon before he could reach the house. She had hardly taken her place when she was astonished by the approach of Weld's car from the other direction. It drew up alongside of Roland's taxi. Tom jumped out, threw the hired car a glance, and went slowly to the house. In a few minutes her father came out and rode awa.w Becky, from lu'r hiding place, was just making up her mi«d to go back home and face the music, when a taxi came speeding from the other direction. It held Fred Lindon. .AiS it passed her she called out to him, but he did not hear her. The car drew up suddenly at the curb in front of the house, and Fred ran up to the house three steps at a time. Becky wruns her hands in distress; her heart dropped : she felt very ill and miserable and unhappy. She waited in dread and anxiety ned ) for what should happen. She did not know quite what Tom would dx) to Fred. She was afraid. In a few seconds her husband walked out of the house. Becky prepared for flight when she saw him coming, but he went in the direction from which he had driven a few minute'^ before. When he was quite out of sight, Becky summoned up courage enough to go home. Lindon was sealed complacently on the sofa, reading and smoking. He felt very well satisfied with him.sclf. On arriving, he had met Tom Warder, who had told him that Mrs, Warder would be sorry that she had been away when he called. "But I don't understand." Lindon had said. "She wrote me this note." .Vnd he produced Becky's message. Tom, thoroughly disgusted, had gone off to his office saying he had some important papers to look through. He had left the house to Fred. Becky did not see her visitor when she entered the living room. Sick and fearfu ly she leaned against the door. Fred heard her, went to her with the greatest confidence, drew her into his embrace and kissed her. "You beast I" Becky jerked herself away violently. "Didn't you send for me?" asked Fred. "What was I to think but that you found that you cared for me?" "Yes, I did send for you," Becky's voice was very bitter, "but it wasn't because I wanted you to kiss me. I've been a fool, and you're a cad. I want you to know that there is only one man I love. That is Tom. There is only one I despise — that is you. And to think that you made me believe you were an abused husband ! Please go. I don't ever want to see you again." Fred Lindon knew when he was whipped, and with an air of indifference he left the house. Naturally he did not find it necessary to inform Becky that he had shown to her husband her note urging him to come to the house, and Becky, in her own blundering way. because Tom had in no way committed violence on Fred, believed her husband had in some way missed seeing him when he was in the house. BECKY WARDER'S emotional resiliency was remarkable. No matter how black one moment might seem, given time, her optimism was back in full glow. The lower h.er state might have been, the higher it went when reaction set in. Perhaps it was the same quality which so many women possess — that same inability or constant refusal to look things squarely in the face — that had' caused so much of Becky's present state of affairs, and which drugged her into the belief that everything was all right. By ten thirty in the evening she had gone through the dress of despair and had climbed throush the various processes of self argument, until now she was in amazingly good spirits. Jenks had said Tom had gone to the office. At about eleven she called him and asked him to come home. One hardly could have suspected that there had been a serious situation the entire day, from the looks and voice of Becky when Tom entered her bedroom. The softly shaded lights envelojied her in a rosy glow. Her cheeks were pink; her eyes sparkled brilliantly. She wore a turquoise blue gown — soft and clinginc — the gown Tom liked best. It was only Tom who showed signs of mental strain and unhappiness. Becky called to him gaily as he opened the door. She ran to him expectantly, but he pushed her away. Why Tom. dear!" 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