Photoplay Magazine Cover — page 102: what you’re looking at

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' might, ProropLay MaGazinE—ADVERTISING SECTION The Last Straw (Continued from page ror) would let fy wid his fists and they'd connect up wid me somewheres, What have you to do today, Lucy? Can you go to a show with your mother this afternoon?” “Ob, mama, I just can't I'd love to. But he may be home to dinner, and I've got to wash his dress shirts and clean up and look over his dinner things and go over to the studio this afternoon and, let me see—” “Not a thing to do, you lazy critter, as Hugh would say. Well, now, I'll tell you. My own little work’s been done since six o'clock. I’m too old to lie a-bed mornin’s now that I can. Now, Lucy, you do your hous¢work and I'll wash them shirts, “Tis really my washing that he likes did he but know it. Then I'll fix your dinner for you, child, and you git over to the studio, If you can get home in time, ‘phone to me, and I'll take you out to a cool place for something refreshin’, I might even blow us Have you got any money?” Lucy mopped the sink with her dish rag and shook her head. “Well, I have, and what's more, Lucy, I want you never to forget that though I'm not a weman who would interfere between a man and hi wife—not even my own daughter would I ever advise to leave her man if I knew him to be a mean, picking devil that didn’t treat her nowhere nears right—but just the same, my girl, remem- ber your father was not a poor man when he passed to his reward, whatever that may have been. Mama has kept it safe for you, and if ever you want to come home, there'll be more clothes and a servant girl and a flivver—’ Lucy Beresford began to laugh. “Mama, what an old fraud you are. Don't worry about me, dear. Hugh's odd, but I understand him, And I do love him, mama.” “Do you, indeed? Well, there's no ac- countin’ for tastes, as I once told your father when he got himeclf mixed up with that thin, lanky Judy Dellamore. But— mightn't you get tired sometime, Lucy?” “I don't believe so, mama dear. He's a good man at heart. He's funny, but I've loved him so long he’s a habit with me and nobody else would put up with him. Sometimes ['m not as patient as I might be and I know I’m not wise enough to help him get over his foolishness as some women Sometimes, when I can’t laugh for quite a long time, I get fed up, but a woman ought to stay with her man as long as she’s able, oughtn’t she, mama? You— did.” “Yep, I did. But your father only— well, I suppose to each wife ic given the things she can bear with—one can bear women and another can bear liquor and another can bear poverty—and so forth. You're a fine little woman, Lucy, a fine little woman. A better woman than your mother, which & as it should be. But you're not an angel yet, and as I said to your husband, on one of the few times I addressed myself to him, I said, ‘Hugh, my lad, there’s always that lJast straw as breaks the camel’s back. Be careful and remem- ber what better men than you have forgot, that had good, patient wives—there’s always a last straw with a2 woman the same as with a camel!’ And now what'll I get for his dinner?” H RS. HUGH BERESFORD, very trim and neat in her bluc, home-made dotted Swiss, started brickly on the cight- block walk to the studio. Her house was in order, mama was pre paring her delicious chicken salad and a cold boiled tongue and a strawberry short- cake for Hugh's dinner, She had made o the checks, and the shirts were washed and it was not yet noon, The Hollywood streets were cool and had for her that same fascination that had so enenared he imagination on the day Hugh had brought her to their first little home. As she stepped gaily along, her easy laughter and love of fun welled in her eyes and came from her lips in a little tune ful whistle. She stopped short to admire a gorgeous: wistaria in full bloom before she realized that the gray pergola it covered was al- tached to the charming mansion of Mi Maude Sutton. She didn't know Mis Sut- ton very well, though this was the third picture in which Hugh had appeared with her. (Hugh liked to’ refer to himself as. a juvenile or a juvenile lead, He never re~ minded her that they bad been married eight years except in private.) S a matter of fact, Hugh was thirty- four, though he really didn’t look more than the twenty-eight which he daimed. Mrs. Beresford gave a quick sigh. She was five years younger than Hugh, yet she bac ; most people thought her older. Well, won | grew old faster than men and she didn’t have the time nor the mopey to keep her- | self up as Hugh did. Hugh needed so much, a man in his post tion always had to make a showing. And though Hugh was such a good actor h 5 wasn’t a very good business man. She knew she was rather stupid and hadn't had | Hugh’s advantages—he often reminded her of it—but sometimes she could see busi- ness advantages that he couldn't. He didn't” always get his salary and sometimes he lost his temper with directors or producers and lost a good engagement, He wasn't a man | everybody liked to have around the lot. | As she gazed at the gray house beyon 1 the wistaria, thinking on these things, she suddenly remembered Hugh's stick. He qs want it. She didn't know Miss Sutton” well, but she was probably at the studio” any ner and the servants could give her the stic But Miss Sutton wasn't at the studio an the butler asked Mrs. Beresford to come i - Lucy smoothed her skirts and pulled out the little brown curls over her ears. She hadn't” meant to call. Maud Sutton was a beautiful wom 1 Otherwise, of course, she would not have > been a star. She was almost forty, but she still held her following. ; Little Mrs. Beresford felt embarrassed at first and then somehow she felt quite at ease. After all, Miss Sutton was only a woman and there was dust all over the to a of the grand piano and the rooms hadnt been aired. They were very gorgeous, b but there wasn't much light and sunshine. Th iced tea the butler brought in wasn't mad rd properly and there wasn’t enough ice in ite Poor Hugh. How that must have annoyed © him, And poor Miss Sutton. With all he fame and moncy not to know how to run: her home and not to have anybody to Jook after her nicely. ‘ The butler brought the stick and Lucy took tt—she couldn't keep her hands and she was conscious of their rough rech ness when she looked at Maud Sutton’s lovely, white soft hands. Afterwards, Lucy could not remember nf when she became conscious that Miss | ton was patronizing her. Nor when com (Continued on page 103) 4 (E(0)/ A) cboo S ¢om or" mace