The Picture Show Annual (1932)

38 Picture SKow Annua] at Roblna. “ He says that if my letters hadn't been so sweet and changed so much he’d have stopped there, uncle or no uncle, and you wrote those letters. Gosh, you deserve to have him hanging round you instead. And if you’d had had him hanging round you for months on end you’d sympathise with me. It’s a pity it’s not you he' s coming to ” She broke off, staring at Robina, then added slowly : “ Suppose he did. ” “ 'What d' you mean ? ” “ Look ! ” Marla dragged Robina to the mirror. “ Remember I said we were alike? Well, I’ve got the most marvellous idea.” She burst into a peal of laughter. *’ You’re going to be me—for the benefit of Mr. Michael Browning. Listen,” she added, as Robina’s face still expressed complete bewilderment. “ This is my idea. We’ll let him come here, and you’ll be me. I’ll hire a flat somewhere else and live there and be myself. Then ” You’re not serious ! ” Robina Interrupted. “ Perfectly. Michael wants Marla to show him how London’s changed—I know he will—you can do it, and he’ll be satisfied. I’ll be seeing as much as I want to of Tony, and I’ll be satisfied. You’ll be paid for it and have a good time, and you’ll be satisfied—at least you ought to be. And it won’t interfere with the studio work because we re not starting the next picture for a month, so they’ll be satisfied. I wouldn’t bother about it, but the chance of a title s too good to throw away unreasonably. ” Robina stood up. “ Sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else,” she said decidedly. “ It’s a beastly trick to play on anyone, and I won’t do it. ” “ Very high-minded, aren’t we ? ” said Marla. “ This job doesn’t seem to suit you. Yet you know I dislike thinking of getting a new secretary. You were out of work a year, weren’t you ? ” "If you want one who’ll do this sort of thing. I’m afraid you’ll have to, ” said Robina, trying not to think of that appalling year of idleness and semi-starvation. “ Go home and sleep on it. Let me know definitely in the morning, ” said Marla. Robina only slept about a couple of hours that night. The desire to take the job, solely so that she could see Michael, so that she would be held in his arms and hear him say all the things he had not written in his letters, was overwhelming—she would be a fool to turn it down, the only chance of romance in her life so far. Yet in the cold grey light of morning, she knew she could not do it. It was then Fate elected to take a hand in the game. Marla developed appendicitis, and had to be rushed off to a nursing home. Within the next three weeks there were several important engagements—the first night of her new picture, the opening of a new cinema, and various other functions at which she had promised to be present. Her publicity agent, little Gander, who was there also, was at his wits’ end. It meant an unutterable loss of publicity if these had to be cancelled. There was a glint in Marla’s eye as she appealed to Robina’s sense of sportsmanship. Wouldn’t Robina take her place now ? Here was the chance of repaying all the little kindnesses she had done her, and the studio would be prepared to pay her very well if she would do it. She needn’t see anyone she didn’t wish to see while she was living at Marla’s flat as Marla. She was so obviously upset at the thought of anything that might harm her career or set it back at all, and began to get so feverish about it, that at last Robina consented. The next week was spent in having her hair bleached and wav.'d to Marla’s style, practising her mannerisms, her voice, her poise, and assuring the studio, who offered her even more generous payment than she had dreamed, that it would be all right, and swearing strict secrecy. Her first appearance in public, at the first night of another film, attended by little Gander, was quite successful, and as Marla refused to see any callers at the flat, their trepidation subsided. Only old Christina, Marla’s maid, knew of the substitution, outside the few studio heads, and she could be trusted. The Engagement. T he doorbell rang, and Robina smiled. Another of Marla’s admirers doomed to disappointment. Then she heard quick footsteps in the hall and she rose to her feet, trembling in every limb. The next moment the door opened, and a tall lean figure stood in the doorway. It was Michael. She knew him at once. “ Marla ! ” he said, and his voice was husky. “ Oh, my dear ! ” She was in his arms, crushed so closely to him she could hardly breathe, while his lips were sweeping over her cheeks, her eyes, her hair, and finally pressed on her own lips. You look more wonderful than ever, he said pre- sently, his hands on her shoulders, surveying her at arm’s length. Robina laughed. She had made a lightning decision. Since the gods had decided that this should happen, she would accept it. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining, as she answered. I m glad, ” she said, then she wondered if that was what Marla would have said. After all, she must remember she was Marla. She assumed Marla’s flippant tone. “ How about some tea—or are you so sick of growing it that you don’t drink it ? ” He grinned. “ No, I always make a point of supporting my own source of income, ” he said, then suddenly sitting down on the sofa, pulled her down beside him. ” But why on earth do we want to talk about rot like that when there’s you— and me—and our future ? ” Robina glanced at him. ” Ours ? ” ” Of course. Most decidedly. My dear, you will let it be ours, won’t you ? You do love me, don’t you ? “ Have I ever said so ? ” Robina inquired, feeling that some definite information on the subject would be valu- able. She knew she hadn’t written or even hinted it m her letters because Marla had been most precise about the limits of her affection, and had practically told Robina that it was as much as her job was worth to put down anything that might possibly cause trouble later on. “ No, but if you didn’t, why did you spare the time— and I know how busy you must have been—to write me those long letters. It wasn’t pure friendliness, was it ? ” “ No,” said Robina in a low voice, feeling that she could say that with perfect truth. “ D’you know, ” he went on, “ it was your letters more than anything that made me long for home, there was something in them somewhere that made