Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1938)

M l>. Doctor's prescription makes i skin beautiful by solving your skin bloms MONEi REFUNDED it those ilfs.L'ut purplish pits ami distressing n ailments do not BO, revealing a ar white skin free from surface blemishes, pimples, blackheads 01 muddiness. PLEASE put kKK.MUl A and Our Word bj Hie test. A ['LEAK !'!■ N'>r A COVER-UI'. $1.25 at dru^ and department stores, ur send direct lo KREIWOLA. Dept. C-4, 2975 S. Michigan, Chicago. Strut for FHL'E SAMPLE. her house a little later, she saw again the tired eyes, the unhappy mouth. Pity caught at her heart. She paused uncertainly, looking at him. "Stephan,'' she said suddenly, "come in for a little while and have tea with us. I want you to meet Mother. She's an awfully good sort." For the first time since she had met him, Loretta saw Stephan's grim jaw muscles relax, his eyes light. "I'll bet," he said, grinning. "I mean she'd have to be, to give out with a daughter like you. And — tea is just what I need." They drank tea. The hour passed easily, marked by Loretta's casual chattering and Mrs. Young's slightly puzzled but steadfast poise and two bursts of sincere laughter from Stephan. This was Loretta's triumph. When he left, Stephan paused at the door and said, merely, "Thank you," but his smile offered more than gratitude. In the garden, a few minutes later, Mrs. Young poured herself another cup of tea and regarded Loretta curiously. "He's very charming," she said. "Yes, isn't he, poor fellow," Loretta answered vaguely. She sat thinking for a moment. Then she looked up. "'Why, he has charm, loads of it," she said. "I'd never noticed." HERE was that week, in which Stephan twice drove Loretta home and stayed in the garden for tea; and each time laughter came more easily to him and each time the heartbreak in his. eyes was less apparent. In the second week he asked her to dinner and they talked a little about themselves. He mentioned his trouble with his wife once. "It isn't her fault," he told Loretta, staring intently down at his salad. "It's something within myself that I can't recognize or understand. Something I can't talk about." In the third week, one morning, Loretta at breakfast spilled a drop of coffee on the belt of her dress. "Oh, darn it," she said, getting up. "Now I'll have to change, and it's so late — " In her room, as she changed, her personal fad of honesty with herself slowed her movements and sent her mind racing. Why had she insisted on changing? (Continued from page 69) was out. Besides had she the right to love or be loved by this man while there was still the remotest chance that he might one day go back to his wife? What possible result, aside from heartache and tragedy, could come from such a love as this? Then, overshadowing all else, the sudden picture of a garden in the moonlight came to her — of herself and her promise to herself, spoken aloud. "If there will be great happiness I will take that and if there will be deep sorrow I will take that, too. . . ." All right, she thought. This is it, and it's up to me to keep the promise. I HE summer was a long holiday, with the mornings radiant because she would talk to Stephan over the telephone before breakfast, and the evenings long separate avenues of happiness down which they walked together. So far as both were able, they forgot the circumstances under which their romance must exist: the burden of his marriage, the stern eye of Rome. Autumn and the polo games in California do not necessarily mean any change in weather. Loretta, sensibly in a sport dress and light coat, sat one afternoon staring through her dark glasses at the hard running ponies and their riders; she felt Stephan's fingers tighten suddenly. She looked up. Two children, a boy and a girl, had come up to the railing of the box and were holding out their hands to Stephan. He picked them both up, kissed them, spoke a few words to them, sent them away again. "It was nice of her to let them come over," he said very casually to Loretta. But his face was ash-white and she saw that once again his mouth wore the tight, bitter look of the preceding spring. "They're beautiful children," she told him softly. "Let's get out of here," was his answer. With the motor shut off there was no sound except that of the breakers below and the idle call of gulls. She accepted the cigarette he offered, stretched back in the seat. "We've got to face it now," she said. "Yes." "You want to go back, don't you?" Because I am going to see Stephan in a little while and I must be perfect. And then she understood. There could be no doubt. She was in love with Stephan and there would be no need to find a way of telling him because he knew, had known from the beginning; and he was in love with her. On the way to the studio, she let the chaos of thought flow through her mind. Stephan was married and a father. He was of her religion, which meant the idea of marriage, ever, HYMAN FINK SAYS: — There's a method in this madness of developing "Candids," according to Hyman Fink, whose amazing candid shots can be found on pages 34 and 35. "After the picture is shot," says Mr. Fink, "the most important work comes — that of properly handling the negative, which must be kept spotlessly clean at all times. "In developing the negative I find, for my work, where negatives are shot under so many varying conditions, that the time and temperature method is best. After negatives have been developing three minutes, I inspect them under a faint green light, in order to catch an over or underexposed negative. "It is always best to make enlargements as, by so doing, unwanted parts of the shot can be cut out, and, by "dodging," under or over parts can be held back or darkened in. The print can be softened by using a defusing screen. Softer and rougher grades of paper will enhance an otherwise drab picture." He snapped a dashboard switch on and off, on and off. "I love you. That's all I know at the moment." "There's nothing we can do about it," she said, and she was surprised to hear the steady tone of her voice when she had expected it to break. "You can't get a divorce. We couldn't ever be married. You've got to go back, patch it up somehow. We were fools to think we could ever get away with it." Stephan looked at her steadily. "Were we fools?" She saw his eyes again. "No. No, not ever!" She forced herself to smile. "Drive me home now." At the door of her house he touched her hand. "Goodnight, beautiful." She said, "Good-by," and went inside, listlessly. I HE studio gave her a few months off, because she looked even more tired than she said she was, and she went to Europe with her mother. In England, she read that Stephan had gone back to his wife, and after that she read no more papers since there was nothing further in them that could possibly interest her. She went to Rome and looked at the crumbling arena. She went to Paris and looked at the Mona Lisa. She went to Venice and rode in a gondola. Then she came home. She was ill, the doctors said, and they sent her to bed. She went, unprotestingly. The weeks slipped into one another, and the gossip columns hinted that she would never work again and that she was broke; she read the columns, tossed them on the floor, picked up a magazine — time stood still. Until one morning she woke to hear rain whimpering softly against her windows, and she sat up in bed, thinking: I'd like to go for a long walk in the fields, and then come back for a hot bath and breakfast. I haven't done that in years. The smell of percolating coffee drifted up to her'. "Bacon and waffles!" she said aloud. Then, suddenly, she began to laugh delightedly. A sense of sheer well-being tingled through her, so that she crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders. I am well, she thought. And I am happy again. Loretta Young's story is not finished, because it is a love story; and so long as she is beautiful, so long as her heart beats to its romantic rhythm, she will live for the glamour that moons bring and melodies sustain and low int i m a t e laughter completes. With her house in order; with her assured professional rating and unassailable contract; with the little girl, one charming Judith, whom she eventually adopted; with her faith to guide her, Loretta faces her glowing future. She has only begun to live, and to love. 78 PHOTO PLAY