The Picture Show Annual (1931)

118 Picture Show Annual Penny did not answer her, but followed her out into the dance-hall. The place was packed with film fans of all ages, and there was a fair sprinkling of stars, each conspicuous by the crowds of autograph-hunters round him. Penny accompanied Dora to the little table where Cohen was seated and, after a moment's conversation, the other two went off to dance, leaving her alone. She leaned back in her little gilt chair and looked about her eagerly. At last she caught sight of him standing with his back towards her not so far away. She recognised him immediately, and a little thrill of pleasure and admiration passed through her as she noted the magnificent cut of his dress-clothes. He was busy signing autographs, and, as she watched, turned a little so that she saw his profile and caught a glimpse of the satisfied smile upon his lips. He had changed, she decided. Of course, he was as handsome as ever—that was understandable—but there was a distinct air of self-satisfaction about him which it was impossible to miss. Involuntarily, she rose from her seat and strode down the room towards him. She slipped through the enclosure which herded him off from the crowd which would otherwise have overwhelmed him, and stepped lightly up beside him. At the moment he was signing his name with a flourish in the elaborate autograph book of one of the prettiest little girls she had ever seen. The youngster was smiling up at him, her eyes glistening with honest hero-worship. Penny laid a hand upon his shoulder. " Hallo, Chris ! " she murmured. He turned to her and stared. In that moment she became suddenly and vividly conscious that her well-worn dance frock showed signs of its many cleanings. She became aware of the fact that her permanent wave was beginning to show that all good things will not last for ever, and that she was only an extra and that he was a star. She felt the colour rising m her face, and a feeling of shame overwhelmed her. He smiled at last, but coldly, and without anything but the faintest recognition in his eyes. " Why, yes, of course," he said ; " Miss Ware ! I'm so glad to see you again. Is there anything I can do for you ? She stood gaping at him, conscious of the crowd of young people eyeing her curiously. He coughed faintly. If you 11 excuse me," he said, " I have rather a lot of friends here to attend to." And then he turned his back upon her. Penny crept out of the enclosure and returned to her table. The snub had overwhelmed her. They had been such friends ; she thought he would have been so glad to see her again. Dora had not returned from the dance-floor, and she sat there for some time alone, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. She was furiously angry, of course, but what hurt her most of all was the change in him. Success had spoilt him. Rumours had come to her from time to time that he had become swelled-headed, but she had never believed them ; and yet now She stifled a sob in her throat, and hastily dabbed at her complexion with a minute powder-puff. She caught sight of her face in the tiny oval mirror of the powder box and grimaced to herself. " Penny Plain," she said. " Poor Penny Plain ! " Meanwhile, across the floor, Christopher Gordon, the celebrated star, smiled and signed and smiled again. The Voice. EVER since the installation of the new sound plant the Bnto-Semitic lot had been in an uproar. There were new and terrifying machines, and the cameramen, who had once been undisputed kings of the set, now played second fiddle to the all-important sound directors. The first five-reel talking picture that was to make or mar Brito-Semitic's reputation as a sound-film studio was already being cast, and day after day the voice trials went on, and groups of elated or terror-stricken actors and producers trooped from the studio to the monitor- room where the scenes were played back, the voices sounding strange at first to unaccustomed ears. It was on such a day, rather late in the proceedings, that Penny and Dora sat side by side in the monitor-room, their hearts beating wildly. The result of Penny's trial was about to be switched on to the screen, while at the same time the strange gramophone-like instrument in the corner would give back the few sentences she had spoken. This was exciting enough in the ordinary' way, but the great new American director who had come over to direct " The Gentle Lady," as the new film was to be called, was present, a tall, hard-faced man with yet a kindly twinkle behind his horn-rimmed spectacles. Walter K. Montgomery* had been watching this same sort of trial ever since casting operations had begun. He talked a great deal about the film voice and per- sonality, and the new technique until everyone was on tenterhooks. After what seemed an age of waiting, there was a soft click from the projection-room, and Penny appeared upon the screen. She was seated at a telephone, and the girl, watching herself critically, became painfully aware of her tip-tilted nose, her wide mouth. And then she began to speak. The instrument recorded her voice