The self-enchanted : Mae Murray : image of an era (1959)

Free me just once, Mr. DeMille. If I'm not a success, you can send me home." He shook his head. "Let's see what we can do with Sweet Kitty Bellairs. You'll probably like the part better." He paused and thought about it. "She's livelier. This is the part that got Jane Cowl started in the theatre. You read the book, you know the story ? Good, let me have your ideas." "I must have music," she said quickly. The smooth bald dome wrinkled. "You mean for the minuet?" "I mean before every scene I'm in. Music opens doors for me, sets a mood. I'll pay for the musicians, Mr. DeMille, don't worry about that." He smiled. "I'll want a piano and violin and either a flute or cornet. I'll be much better, you'll see, if I can have music instead of a wild man yelling at me." They indulged her whim and let her have her music. It was the laughing stock of the studio. "Do you really have to have that?" DeMille asked one day, visiting the set. Director James Young shrugged his shoulders. Mae smiled like the roguish and lovable Kitty, swung her magnificent satin Gainsborough skirt and climbed into her sedan chair. The music was gay and tender. She and Wally gazed into each other's eyes, getting into the mood for their love scene. Wally liked music, it suited his mood. He even had a phonograph concealed in a lamp in his dressing room. Sometimes she wondered where he was, he moved so casually through the scenes, while she really wor\ed. With her it was now or never. "You stand where I can see you," she told the director. "I can tell from your face when I've done something wrong." The lights went on, the musicians stopped playing. "Speak your dialogue clearly, remember, the audience can 64