Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 119: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

C2 BY, heart every word on the page before her, Mary Regan must con over the daily matin: ‘' How Worth Brent Picks His Stars.” Since the magazine gave forth the au- thentic interview some weeks before, Mary had never missed an opportunity to satisfy herself, over and over, that her own well- modeled features furnished the ideal for which Worth Brent pursued the eternal quest. Fler fervent prayer was that some day he would find her. Everything would be limousines and villas forever after. More than once she had resolved to see him and would have done so were it not for the warning in the article, which stated: ] ) ‘nese the fact that she knew by Thousands of beautiful youn women come to the Brent studios annually, to no avail. Worth Brent tells them all that the . ideal camcra face must be of his own seeking. Somewhere in this broad land of ours she lives all unaware of the fume and fortune which await her. Some day Brent, or one of his numerous agents, will find her, demure and unsuspecting. It will be a lasting event in the pages of Moviedom. Mary Regan knew the personal ins and outs of every star on the screen as a hermit monk knows the lives of the saints. How each one of them was discovered was as clearly focused on her mind as the lens’ imavze on the ground glass. To her the movies were Alpha ancl Omega. Life was | From One Hundred and Tenth Street to one—~ Thirty-Third, her facial expression was 405 comlicbooks.c© yf ae Daniels ‘““Thamk heaven that cawfee’s perked!” To those who murmur about the length of time it takes the deadlier sex to dress, Mary should stand apart as ne plus ultra. No matter what stage her morning toilet might have reached when the coffee-pot went on the single gas-burner, the moment the coffee was done, Mary was ready. A few minutes later she grabbed a morn- ing paper from the stand at the foot of the steps as she made a wild scramble up to the Sixth Avenue Elevated. TI ortunately she found a seat and was soon head-deep in the news. But it wasn’t news at all she read. Her eyes were devouring that little feature at the top of the eighth column, Ann Bickers’s Daily Chat with the Girl Who Works. The title of the day’s instal- ment was ‘‘ The Movie Masher.” As she finished reading it Mary subcon- sciously brought her lips together in a straight, hard line. Deep furrows cut into her forehead. She looked through the smil- ing young man on the opposite seat in a way that made the youngster—who had been ad- miring her—turm a guilty red. Mary did not see that. She was in another world. Her elbow gave the man next to her a vio Jent dig im the ribs. ‘You tell ’em, Ann old girl!’’ she mut- tered. ‘‘ Would I like to see one of them get fresh with this little girl who works? You just bet I would!”