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HITTING THE HEADLINES
On the middle finger of her right hand she wore the most magnificent and blinding diamond I have seen — seven bands of platinum studded with round and oblong stones.
" May I ask if it was a gift? " I said.
"No, I bought it myself. What a terribly sad thing to have to admit, a girl buying her own diamonds."
It is of course one of the consequences of her success that she can afford to give herself far more magnificent gifts than could most men.
During most of her marriage it seems she was doing all the giving. Her husband earned practically nothing. There were rows. There were separations. All this time, according to Miss Hayward, she was never out of the list of the ten most popular stars at the boxoffice.
Her ex-husband has described her as having "the soul of a ballet dancer and the appetite of a truck driver".
In April 1955 detectives discovered Susan Hayward in sky-blue pyjamas and a quilted dressing-gown lying on the floor of her home in Sherman Oaks suffering from an overdose of sleeping tablets.
Four days later, when she left hospital, leaning on the shoulders of a nurse, she had to face a battery of Press and newsreel cameras. I have seen the whole range of pictures taken on that occasion: they revealed that her professionalism had fortunately not deserted her. I could not help admiring her smile, her composure and dignity as she walked into the flashing cameras and piercing arc-lamps.
But Miss Hayward's turbulent private life — which is about as public as any private life can be — was soon in the headlines again.
In November 1955 she was involved in an incident with a twenty-three-year-old starlet Jill Jarmyn. Miss Hayward was having coffee in the flat of actor Donald
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