Screenland (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

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Shade Name — AddressCity across the top of it, with a silken comforter drawn around her slim body. She looked like a child who had been tucked away, with her prayers said, and no fear of bogey-men. Bill stared at her fixedly for the space of a hundred heart-beats, before he rasped : "Carol, get up !" Carol stirred. Her eyes flew widely open. She smiled divinely — her smile was so happy that it almost made tears come to Bill Banton's own eyes. She said in a drowsy voice: "It's nice to wake up and see you, Bill." Bill tried to be severe. He queried : "How long have you been here? When did you get here?" The thought jangled in his brain: "Hoiv much did you hear?" Carol said, "I came right from the studio. You weren't home yet, but Moto" — Moto was Bill's Japanese servant — "let me in. I told him to beat it. Then I got gr°ggy — that last dance routine was terrific— and came in and went to sleep under your elegant quilt. I haven't moved — " did her eyes regard Bill a shade anxiously? — "since. Until I heard you calling me." Bill sat down on the edge of the bed. He said: "Mavis Dorian has been here. I met her on the way home from M. B.'s party. I gave her money and the promise of a job. She was down and out." Carol said: "You would! Did you," her voice shook, "give her anything else?" Bill told her : "A couple of drinks and a million sandwiches." Carol said : "Don't play possum. I mean your heart, entirely?" Bill wanted to lie. He couldn't. His face was drawn as he answered. "I told her that I had always loved her. Give her my heart, you ask? She kicked my heart until it was black and blue. I don't think my heart will ever," he forced a laugh, "be the same." Carol said: "I hope not." She sat up, and brushed the tumbled curls out of her eyes. "Your heart," she said, "has always been the only ga-ga thing about you. Well. I'll fix that. Will you marry me, Bill? Tomorrow?— " she peered down at a slender platinum wrist watch — "Today?" Bill said, "You're so attractive — such a grand person. You deserve the best in the world. But if you want to make your dinner off the scraps from life's table — " He leaned forward and kissed her. On the lips. It was the first time he had ever kissed Carol — she'd done all the kissing, to date. It was a pleasant experience — surprisingly pleasant. Bill kissed her again, lingeringly. It was like a film episode— and yet it was real. Involuntarily his arms went around the girl's slimness. He felt her relax against his shoulder. It made him feel strong and protective, the way her little body loosened in his grasp. He kissed her again, and then Carol spoke. "Speaking of scraps,'' said Carol shakily, "did Mavis leave any sandwiches?" The End Kay Francis in "Stolen Holiday" Continued from page 27 would be the fashion rage of the world. Only Nicole was different from the others. Nicole with her short cropped hair and her eyes that met his look with an arrogance that equaled his own, her arms crossed and her hands tucked under them and her feet placed squarely on the floor as if she were done with posing and pirouetting forever. "This one I" Stefan Orloff smiled enigmatically as he walked towards her, and his gesture dismissed the others. "Monsieur is secretary to the Duchess de Roux," Mme. Jeanette explained. "Unfortunately she is ill and has asked me to send her some evening gowns and wraps. As you seem to be nearest her size and coloring I will have to ask you to go with Monsieur Orloff and model them." It was a strange adventure that was beginning. Nicole was aware of the man's eyes fastened on her as he helped her into a taxi and sat beside her. "Tired?" His voice came to her with something of a shock. It was almost too suave, too low and gentle. And then, as she nodded : "Why do you do this sort of thing?" "Ambition, my friend." Her laugh came with a bitterness that had grown familiar to it. "Someday I may be the fat mistress of a shop like that and hire girls to wear their feet out for me." "Perhaps some day I'll set you up in business." His voice came with the same easiness, and then as she straightened indignantly, he laughed. "And then again there is always the possibility that I won't." In spite of herself Nicole was beginning to like this man. There was the French mother in her to give her grudging admiration to his high-handed arrogance and the Irish father to laugh at his humor even though it was directed at herself; and there was herself, the American, to make her unafraid and to accept any adventure that might come her way. Even before he ushered her into the big house that had so palpably been unlived in for a long time with its furniture shrouded in dust covers and not as much as an ash tray anywhere, her suspicions had been mounting. Now when he opened the door to the room where she was to change into Jeanette's highest priced dinner gown and dust swirled in a little cloud around her feet as she stepped on the thick Abusson carpet she turned sharply and faced him. "There's no one here!" He bowed ironically as she went on. "There is no duchess de Roux at all. This is a trick. I'm not going to stay to find out what kind." "I'm afraid you have me." He had appraised her in the salon, had seen more than the proud lift of her head, the quickcharm that had made her stand out from the others. There had been courage in the eyes that had faced him then. There was courage in the eyes that disdained him now. "Don't you think it would be better to sit down and listen to me?" He held out his cigarette case and to her surprise she found herself taking one, leaning forward as he held his lighter to its tip. "First, about this house. I have leased it, that is I have deposited a check toward a lease. Whether the check will be good depends on you. I've come here to make my fortune. Tonight I have hopes of amalgamating an idea of mine with the very necessary capital of another gentleman." "I don't see what any of this has to do with me," Nicole said. "One can't accomplish big things alone, with the manner of a penniless adventurer." His confidence made her believe in this strange man in spite of herself. "So I have invited this gentleman and his wife to have dinner with us, the theatre, and afterwards the Chez Florence. I am planning this with an air, an aura of success to inspire respect and confidence. You know how indispensable that is. Especially to the French." "And I was to be part of the air? It all sounds very fantastic," Nicole protested. "But why me? There are millions of women in Paris." "The sort that can be picked up on any