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63
Lya Waves tKe Flag
A surprising change in looks and outlook has come over the night-fiower De Putti during her sojourn in Hollywood.
By Herbert Knight
IT was high noonin the market place. Times Square, always a little mad, was stark, staring, crazy in the bedlam of its commerce.. The megaphoned shuffling of the multitude almost swayed the stone-and-steel canyons of Broadway with their echoes. Cursing, laughing, shrieking, the city hurtled through the day, even as my bandit-driven taxi stopped short, with a demoniac wailing of tortured brakes.
The driver snorted, too, but at the Scotch ancestry evidenced by my tip. It mattered little, for the maelstrom of humanity seized me, whirled me round and round, then spev/ed me into the maw of a revolving door. Thence I was shot directly between the iron jaws of a monster that reared its head with ghastly speed. It paused, the great mouth opened, and I stepped off the elevator nearer heaven by twenty stories. At her door, I asked for Lya. Milady slept. But I would wait,
and so passed the portal into another world.
I felt like some vagabond Villon, who had found sanctuary from the pursuing mob in the dim light of a
Paris Photo Studio
Lya arrived in this country a pallid exotic shielded from the sun.
Photo by He^sev
The tanned, boyish figure of to-day is a far cry from her former self.
She ,has her daily round of golf, or some tennis.
great cathedral, a cathedral dedicated to a pagan priestess. Black draperies obscured the prying eyes of the sun. The carpets were ankle-deep. The silence was felt. There was an overpowering urge to shout, but here one whispered.
The air was fragranceladen. The room itself was luxurious disarray. A brilliant scarf, cast carelessly on a bench, splashed it with color. Gloves, small and intimate, had been tossed on a table and forgotten. The breath of Egypt came faintly from a jeweled cigarette box to mingle with the scent of musk.
Here dwelt foreign fame. For Lya had just arrived in America. Her conquest of the Continent, culminating in that brilliant movie, "Variety," had sent American moguls scurrying with gifts of golden contracts. One had been accepted. On its wings came the great De Putti, latest and brightest of the stars filched from the European firmament.
A fluttering maid murmured that mademoiselle had awakened. Her bath was bulletined. I received news of her breakfasting. Then a whispered, "One little moment," and fifteen long ones later, Lya entered.