Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1923)

IOO Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section Under the Arm! — the one spot which soap and water cannot keep immaculate THERE is one quality which men expect, a/ways, in a woman — personal daintiness! And yet, so often women are unconsciously lax about a very important phase of the toilette. For there is one spot which even daily bathing cannot keep immaculate — under the arm! Because of perspiration odor and moisture, the underarm must have regular, special care, just as the teeth and finger nails. Millions of dainty women are finding their best safeguard in the underarm toilette — now available in two delightful ways. ODORO-nO Ike liquid corrective for excessive perspiration For those afflicted with an excessive degree of perspiration moisture and odor, Odorono was formulated by a physician as a safe, scientific corrective. A ■■ harmless, antiseptic toilet C. water, its regular use twice a week will keep the underarms always dry and odorless and protect clothing from all stain and odor. At all toilet counters, 35c, 6oc,$i. *&d Greme ODORO-nO The new vanishing cream deodorant If you are troubled with a milder degree of perspiration, Creme Odorono, a dainty new cream, will give you immediate, effective protection for the entire day. Because it vanishes at once and is non-greasy, it may be used when dressing. Smooth and soft, it will not harden or dry up. Men, too, like its convenience for everyday dependence or quick, special use. Large tube, 25c. Send for Samples Send 6c for sample Crenie Odorono; for 10c samples Liquid Odorono and Odorono Depilatory will be included. Ruth Miller, TheOdorono Company, 907 Blair Ave., Cincinnati, Ohio "No, but I've heard a great deal about him — through a friend in Los Angeles." "//; Los Angeles?" exclaimed the other. " What did you say your name was?" "I didn't say, but it's Mahoney — James Mahoney?" "And Mister Stanhope didn't know you?" "No, but if you'll tell him that a friend of Miss Knowles — Nita Knowles — is here, I think he will be glad to see me." The little man gulped and looked frightened. "Well, how about it?" asked Jimmy, somewhat annoyed by the other's peculiar actions. "Oh, dear," sighed the other with a woebegone expression, "I'm sorry but you have come too late to see Mister Stanhope." "Too late! What do you mean?" "Mister Stanhope is dead, sir." "Dead! Good Heavens! When did that happen?" "Er — a week ago; a week ago yesterday. He was an invalid you know." And the little man's eyes showed traces of tears. "Gee!" said Jimmy, "that's too darned 1 ad, isn't it? I'm awfully sorry." And he really was, somehow. "Yes, it is sad. Rut as our French friends say: 'C'cst la guerre!' " "Yes, that's the way of war. Sorry I didn't come sooner. There's nothing I can do, is there — that is; he had friends, and all that?" "Oh, yes. Everything has been taken care of quite as he would have wished." "Well, then, guess I'll be going back. Sorry to have troubled you." "Oh, that is quite all right. I only regret that you couldn't have seen Mister Stanhope. Goodbye " And with a meek little bow, he closed the door, and Jimmy heard him shuffling off down the hall. "Hi, there!" called a young man who was hurrying across the yard, "Why didn't you hold him a minute longer?" "Hold him? asked Jimmy as the youth came up, "what do you mean?" "Why, hold old 'Prof Stanhope. I've got a bill here that I've been trying to collect and he hides every time he sees me coming." " 'Prof Stanhope?" exclaimed Jimmy, "Who is 'Prof Stanhope?" "The old geezer you were talking to. Professor Stanhope, professor of language and literature in Greenwood's famous college." "Oh. That's who it was, eh?" "Yep. That's him. Worst old liar and deadbeat in town. Kinda 'cracked,' I guess. Writes poetry — and all such foolishness." "Say! Did he have a brother — or any relative — that died a week ago?" "Naw, he ain't got any folks but an old maid daughter." "You're sure that no one staying here — an Englishman, maybe — died recently?" "Absotively. What's the old geezer been doing — stringing you?" "It sure looks like it. It sure does — !" Y\ THEN Jimmy got back to Los Angeles he W immediately set out for Hollywood to make his remarkable report. Nancy wasn't in, but Nita was there. "I'll come back later," said Jimmy. "Got a little business matter to talk over with your mother." "All right," said Nita frostily, "but you needn't hurry away. There's a little matter I'd like to talk over with you." There was something threatening in her tone and manner and Jimmy began to make excuses. "Never mind that," she said. "I know you have been back east and ju.^t got in, but you can spare a few minutes." "All right, then," said Jimmy with assumed carelessness, "fire away." "How did you like your trip?" "Oh. so-so Rotten weather back east." "What did you find out at Greenwood?" "What's that?" yelped Jimmy. "I said: 'What did you find out at Greenwood?' " " Why— what— how— ? " "Oh, mamma 'spilled the beans,' as she says. I know all about it. Fine, gentlemanly thing you did!" "But, Nita! — you don't understand — " "Oh, yes, I do. I got it all from her. Now I suppose you are going to sit there and tell me what a fool I've been; tell me how I've been deceived?" Jimmy squirmed in his chair: "Er — no; not exactly. Fact is, I didn't see him." "Didn't see him? Why, how was that?" "Well— er— I hate to tell you, Nita, but -but he's dead." "Dead? Oh, no! When did he die?" " A week Lefore I got there." "A week before you got there — ! What day were you there?" "Let's see — Tuesday, the 17th." "Tuesday, the 17th?" "Yes; only one day." CHE regarded him a moment quite thought^-Mully, then fished in her bodice and drew out a letter. "Here, Jimmy," she said, "is the last letter I got from him It's dated and postmarked the 1 6th." Jimmy made no reply, but he looked sweaty and miserable. "Somebody has lied, don't you think, Jimmy?" "Looks like it," he agreed. "And who should I believe?" "I — er — I don't know." "Suppose I believe that both of you have lied — about a number of things?" "That might be nearer it," he admitted hesitatingly. "And why did you lie about it?" "I — I'd rather not say." "Want me to guess?" "If you think you know." "Well — it's just a guess, but I think you found out something back there that wouldn't be nice to tell me; something you thought would hurt me, maybe. Was that it?" She waited. "Something like that." Both were silent for a moment. "That was a beautiful 'white lie,' Jimmy," she said softly, — "beautiful." He made no reply to this, but sat with bowed head. "Jimmy!" she exclaimed suddenly, tears shining in her eyes, "You've come back to me — just as good and clean as you always were, and much finer than I knew you could be. Why, Jimmy! — he never could have done a finer thing than you have done — with one little 'white lie'!" "I didn't do it because I'm fine," he said slowly, "I did it because — because you're fine and I want you to stay that way — and you can't if all your dreams are spoiled." "You weren't afraid then that something like this might spoil my work?" "No. I don't care about your work — any more. I wish you were just like you were when you came up from New Orleans." "Honest, Jimmy?" "Honest!" "Jimmy, we all have blind spots in our eyes, but we don't 1 eed to have them in our hearts, need we?" "I don't know. Maybe we have to pretend we have." "And you have been pretending, Jimmy?" "Kinda." "Jimmy!" "Yes?" "Do you remember when I came here from New Oceans and you met us at the station? Remember how you bent down for a 'little sister' kiss on your cheek?" "Yes. I remember." "And how mamma laughed at us for being so awkward and bashful?" "Yes." "Well, Jimmy. Watch me now — see what I've learned in the movies! Oh, Jimmy! You don't care if I cry, do you?" Every advertisement In PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE is guaranteed.