Photoplay Magazine Cover — page 105: what you’re looking at

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PHOTOPLAY MAGAZINE—ADVERTISING SECTION The Last Straw (Concluded from page 104) she married him—even before she met him. Now, he was a habit. If her mother knew this—but her mother shouldn't know, She would just have to forgive Hugh this, take comfort that it was not worse, and try to win him more and more to his home. She had rather an awful moment when she wondered if she was doing the right thing—if her indulgence and petting and forgiveness weren't aiding and abetting Hugh in his celfish egotism. Perhaps a stronger woman would take her stand and force bim—but she was not a strong woman, She couldn’t do that. Only going on doing the best— It was nice anyway that she knew so far - ahead that Hugh was coming home to din- ner, It had been sweet of him to tell ber. Mama had everything ready and she could spend her time making the house lovely and herself pretty. She counted the remainder of her household allowance. Yes, she'd stop for some of that cheese he loved 30. He had been sweet, He'd said he loved her better than anything else in the world. Perhaps he felt a little ashamed. They'd have a lovely evening together and forgive. She had fixed her hair, put on her new tan dinner frock, and completed her dinner preparations when she heard the car stop. Hugh came briskly up the walk. As he stood in the doorway, she thought how good looking he was. “Hello, sweetheart," he called. And Lucy, trying to prepare everything so that it would be just right if he wanted to eat ‘now and go that it wouldn't spoil if he wanted to wait half an hour, called back, “Hello, dear, I’m in the kitchen.” _ He came into the spotless white kitchen and pulled her ear, as she turned the bat- ter-dipped cucumbers in brown butter, “Never mind that for me, sweet,” he said. *T don’t think I'll dine at home, after all. Tom McInnes has asked me to go down to the yacht club. He’s going to call for me, You know how the water rests me after a hard day.” The last sentences floated down the stairs. Lucy Beresford, her throat throbbing with sobs, her eyes blinded with hot, angry tears, went on mechanically frying cucum- bers. She was never able to eat them afterwards. Well, she knew how flattered Hugh always was to be asked down to the yacht club. He liked to get in with that of big important men. She ought to glad Tom McInnes, Hugh's director, liked him well enough to want him ta go, Not all men liked Hugh. It was a wise move. Te was all right. She'd had rather a trying day, that was all. She'd call her mother to come over and eat the dinner and they'd have a visit and go to a show. x eases upstairs she heard a terrific bang—bang—followed by the sound of shivering, exploding glass. She ran to the stairs and called up, “Oh, Hughie—oh, what is it?” “Damn it,” he yelled down, “I threw that burned out light globe over my shaving mirror on the floor, that’s what it is. I've told you already it was burned out and now, by God, maybe I'll get a new one.” echo of his fect going into his room. Flung open doors, The drop of shoes— Yee The creak of drawers hauled open, o— “Lucy! Luc-ee-eee! What are you do- ing? Why don't you help me? Where are my best white pants? The other ones, with the tan stripe in them, I can't find the cursed things anywhere. What in the world _ do you do with things? I can’t imagine.” On the last words, Lucy walked quietly into the room. From the nearest hanger in the closet, not two feet from Hugh's face. she took the best white pants. Then she went deliberately to the open window and threw them out, as iar as she could throw them. They lit grotesquely, on a cactus plant in the middle of the front lawn. “There they are,” she said. “Now go get ‘em, if you want ‘em. I'm going home to my mother.” And walked out, Il “IN the name of hiven, what’: this?” Mrs. O'Bannon stopped before the front window of her small, plush drawing room and Jooked out intently. A very handsome, dark blue coupe, driven by a chauffeur in livery, had just drawn up. The door opened instantly and Hugh Beresford, resplendent in a Palm Beach ef- fect, and bearing in one hand a bouquet of American Beauties jumped out. “Hello, mother,” he said, as he took the steps two at @ time. Mrs. O'Bannon regarded him silently, ag- gressively from the doorway. At last she said, “Did you want some- thing ?” Hugh crimsoned slowly, “I—I wanted to see Lucy,” he said, “U—um,”" said his mother-in-law. “Well, the child’s having her breakfast in bed, 1 doubt if she wants to see you.” Hugh’s eyes sought the brightly shining coupe, “I—I wanted to show her the new car I bought her,” he said in a voice that was quite new, “That’s nice,” said Lucy's mother, “but it may be “twill take more than a new car to mend a camel's back when you've broke it.” There was a little patter on the stairs, and Lucy stood on the landing, flushed but quiet. "I thought I heard your voice, Hughie,” she said, “Why don’t you ask Hugh to come in, mother?” “He can come in if be wants to,” said Mrs. O'Bannon. “I'm not stopping him,” Lucy, her little head very high, led the way into the parlor. “I brought you these roses," said her hus- band. “They're lovely,” Lucy admitted, taking them into her lap. “Thank you.” “And—if you'll just peck through that window, Lucy, you'll see the little new car I bought you—and I've got a maid for you at the hous. I think she’s a very good one.” “It's a beautiful car,” said Mrs. Berce- ford, “but—I don’t think I want it. Cars —and servants—well, that isn’t it, Hughie. I—J just can't come back,” There was a tense little silence. Lucy’s finger slowly ) sagsen the rose leaves in her lap, turning petals back and forth. Then suddenly the man knelt down be- side her chair, “But Lucy—I can’t live without you. I—I'm sorry, I love you. I know I was a pig—a fat headed piz. Tom McInnes made me see things a little Jast night from—from your point of view. I'm sorry.” Lucy's lips were pale, but she shook ber head. “I'm glad you're sorry, Hugh— but I—don’t think I could—start in all over again. It’s too much. No—I just can't.” “But Lucy—I need you. I need you.” The shaft of sunshine that sifted through the drawn curtains fell just then on Lucy's face. But it was a pale, cold thing com- pared to the gorgeous light that came into her eyes. “Well.” she said softly, “if you really Enow you need me, Hughie—I guess I'll come home” _ | | When you write to adrertiages please mention PHOVOPLAY MAGAZINE. 105 ‘ a“ ~ Pan ——, ‘ The lustrous nails which fashion demands = In five brief minutes, without buffing You can now have lovely nails, always perfectly manicured, with the dainty gloss that fashion decrees, without a moment’s buffing. 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