Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1927 - Feb 1928)

58 For To-morrow We Die thing and deposited it in sprawling humiliation on a pile of boxes. She was dressed in a wisp of a pink chiffon negligee, her ankles were bare, her feet in tiny, blue satin mules. A blue ribbon was tied about her head, with a wee bow on top. She swept piles of frivolous underwear off the divan and sat down. "Oh, dear!" she fluttered. "I'm not half ready to go, and I have to go to a luncheon and a tea and a dinner and a preview and a supper party, and between times I have to run out to see my nephews and sister and other relatives and do a lot of errands — and the train goes at noon to-morrow ! Isn't it awful!" She clasped her hands about one knee, her brown eyes wide with amusement. "I love going places — that is, I mean, I love being places, after I get there. But the process of getting ready and making the trip just slays me ! • "I suppose you want to know if it is to be a divorce in Paris. Everybody keeps asking me that. I really can't tell, yet. I shall see my attorneys, of course. And it rhay be that they will meet Captain Macintosh's attorneys somewhere and that something will be done. It is to be divorce eventually, of course. We have been separated for over a year. But I don't see any need to hurry." "Will you marry again?" I wanted to know. "Well — I hope so — frankly. One hates to look forward to old age alone. It seems a bit early, however, to discuss the probability of acquiring another husband when I still have this one. But loneliness — and age Time does go so fast. One is old before one knows it !" She gazed into the distance. Neat maids threaded their way through the litter of the room with garments in their arms. "What is the matter with marriage, anyhov/?" she demanded of me. fiercely. "Why can't people make it go ? Especially people in my profession? Every day we hear of a new separation. "Now and then a couple live together for a long time, apparently very happy. We begin to point to them with pride and to say, 'Now there are two people who love each other and who are going to stick together !' The whole colony takes a sort of possessive pride in the accomplishment, as if it were something very wonderful that reflected credit upon us all. Then, one morning, we wake up and read in the papers that they are getting a divorce. It is sad. It is heartbreaking!" She got up and moved about restlessly. "Professional women, I suppose, should not marry. At least, they should not marry men outside their profession. I have demonstrated that — twice! A man can't help resenting the claims of a woman's work. He can't help feeling that she should not allow anything to interfere with her duties as a wife. It is the age-old tradition that makes it irritating and Connie does not regret her two unsuccessful marriages, and thinks she will probably marry again. unthinkable to him for his wife to come home to him instead of his coming home to her. "He wants her to be free when he is free — to be willing and ready to play when he wants to play. And if she comes home from the studio tired, when he has plans for the evening and wants her to be fresh and merry, he cannot bring himself to think that it is right. "And then," she Vv-ent on, "men are jealous of your outside interests. They just are. Perhaps if you are both interested in the same line of endeavor — if you can work together — it's different. But even then, sometimes, professional jealousy comes in and wrecks things. "It's the idea of marriage that is so deadly, I guess — the idea of being tied down to one person — tied by law. Divorce is a great safety device. It is like the emergency exit in a theater. You don't think much about it when you go in, but you wouldn't think of entering if it were not there ! "People should have families, I think. I do so enjoy Natalie's and Buster's babies ! They are the happiest things ! Natalie was always the domestic member of our family. Always, when we were youngsters, she was the one wdio fluttered about, learning how to cook and all that sort of thing. She never had any real aspirations for a career. "//' she ended with a sigh, "was never domestic." There was a little pause as she reflected, presumably, upon her lack of domestic instincts. Then she burst into conversation again, passionately proclaiming herself a hedonist. "Life is so short," she reiterated. "Before you know it, you are old and your time for fun is past ! "I go, every four days, to put flowers on my father's grave. He died tw^o years ago when he was fifty-six. Fifty-six! A young man still. For some time before he died, he wasn't supposed to eat any meats or any sweets at all. I used to see him sneaking pieces of pie — which he loved. And now, whenever I £,tand beside his grave, I am so glad he did. I am glad he had those tiny things he wanted. "That poor boy there" — she pointed to a beautiful framed picture of Valentino — "what a short time he lived ! I am glad for all the joy he had while he was here. We must all dance and laugh while we can, because presently we shan't be able to do it any more." She shook her head, throwing back the soft waves of her hair from her face. "I want fun — fun!" she said, with vivid earnestness. "I want ever3^bodv to have the things they want — life, laughter, color, romance— all the fleeting, beautiful, youthful things ! "I have loved every moment of Continued on p;ip;e 100