Evening Star Newspaper, January 30, 1942, Page 31

THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGION, D. C, FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1942. fit,tg\:\%mucn by Sheilah e e ] CHAPTER XXII. Jack Tennant in the publicity department had called Livia at 9:30. Two syndicate columnists wanted to interview her, and she was to lunch with one and have tea with the other. She was planning what she would say to them when Charles telephoned. “Get your hat. We're going to the beach after all,” he said. She told him of her two appointments. “You don’t have to worry about them,” he said grimly. She did not understand. - “They’ll say I'm temperamental if | I'm not here,” she protested. “T'll be with you in 10 minutes.” ‘When Fordyce arrived, Livia said Jubilantly, “You get everything you want. The office just called to can- cel my inte.views. That means I'm free to go.” “You certainly are free, lady,” he said. Her smile faded at the tone of his voice. “You've been fired,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “It’s not even a good joke,” she re- plied. “Come on, I'll explain in the car.” The sky was a deep blue, and the | trees, flashing by, were greenly fresh | and wet from the rain the night be- | fore. Livia thought how lovely Cali- | fornia was outside, but inside every- thing was rotten and soft. It was | bad enough to be fired for giving & good performance. But Charles— the only person in Hollywood who had cared epough to give her a break—had lost his job because of her. “Take me to Mr. Schneider,” she begged him: “I must explain. Alice hated me before I knew you. Please turn back now and take me to the studio, I won't let this happen to ou.” ! He continued driving toward Santa Barbara. Fordyce was not | worried, merely angry. He was a | good director and could work in any studio in Hollywood. He had never bothered to count up his invests ments, but he guessed he was worth sbout a million dollars. He would accept another job when he found & good story. But what of Livia? He stopped the | car along the Malibu highway and suddenly brought her body close | against his and kissed her. Livia | did not resist. She tried to oblit- erate Bruce from her mind. | Fordyce Is Pleased. She had come around to him finally, thought Fordyce. They all | did sooner or later. Few had held out as long as Livia. Cars were passing in a steady | non-ending rush. It was Saturday and everybody was going somewhere | in cars driven by raucous high | school students or hired negro| chauffeurs—they were all going | somewhere to have fun. | “And where am I going?” thought | Livia, withdrawing a little from Charles’ hard arms. But she was | grateful. He had helped her, and was fired for his kindness. “I'll do anything he wants,” she thought, and kissed him. Some boys in a jalopy shouted at them. And they both laughed. | “We’'ll charge an admission fee,” #aid Charles, “Ten cents to watch Fordyce and Clarkson in a world- record embrace.” She put back the hat that had fallen from her head and moved to her side of the car. He caught her fingers and kissed them. “You're sweet,” he said, and she smiled back, confidently. Well, it was something to have an impor- tant man like Charles in love with her. But did he want to marry her? She would be wife number five. That made it less exciting somehow. Charles was thinking they would | lunch at Santa Barbara; then drive back. She had never seen his house. BShe would see it this evening. They lunched at the Samarkand and afterward walked through the flower-filled gardens. Livia wanted to stay there. It was peaceful and | the air was full of sweet scents and the salt of the sea. The heart- | break and intrigue of Hollywood seemed continents away. | “From now on you are under per- sonal contract to me,” Charles said casually. “T'll pay you $150, as the | studio did.” It was quite usual in Hollywood for directors and agents to put promising players under per- sonal contracts. But it was one more example of Charles’ kindness to her and one more link binding | her to him. The sun warmed their backs as | they drove along the coastal route to his house in Beverly Hills. . . . . . Bruce was having a showdown with the countess. In a trade paper | that morning, on the same page | reviewing Livia's picture, there was | an announcement of the definite shelving of “Western Saga.” He telephoned the countess—at the time Livia and Charles were lunch- ing at the Samarkand. | “But I don't understand.” Saskia | said. She was vague and fluttering until Bruce said: | “I'm coming over to wring your lttle neck.” It was a long time since a man had called the Countess’ neck little, or cared enough about it to want wring it. And a pleasurable thrill passed through her dumpy body. She received Bruce in her pink- and-gray Louis Quinze boudoir. The blinds were carefully arranged to dim the yellow sunshine. The air was heavy with the perfume Coun- tess Saskia used. Drive Out Connecticut Ave. to Chevy )\ Chase Circle, right at Western Ave.,’ First Left Turn Into Brookville Roed. 7 WISCONSIN 4566 STEPPING DOWN THE COST OF STEPPING OUT! Why miss the finest of deli- cious food when the finest costs no more at BROOK FARM. The BROOK FARM motto is no com- promise with quality. Open Every Day Except Monday, Year 'Round “Do you mind,” said Bruce after he had been in the room two min- utes, “do you mind if I open the windows? I can't breathe.” Her face was faintly purple against the light, and Bruce regarded her with aversion. “I've shown the film to some friends of mine, and they think it's awful,” she said brutally, “Who?” demanded Bruce. “Oh, some bankers and people.” The Countess stepped to the win- dow, played with blind cord, and gently lowered the bind. She had not meant to be brutal about the picture—until Bruce's cold, objective eyes had made her want to scratch and claw. “But,” he burst out, “bankers and people aren't the audience. Give it a proper trial in a theater. Show it to the press. This is my picture as well as yours. Or have you forgotten the small matter of | a contract?” She opened a drawer in a gilt writing bureau and handed him their contract. “You don’t seem to have read it very thoroughly,” she said, and pointed to a paragraph in which she had to approve the film before release. “I guess I'm as bad & business- man as I am a picture producer, Bruce said slowly. He moved to the door. He would have gone, but Countess Saskia sald hurriedly: “I didn't mean that about the picture. It just needs some retakes, then we'll release it. . . . Don't look at me like that.” She tried to make him sit down. He rolled a cigarette, slowly puffed it, and left her stand- ing in the middle of the room. For the first time since his college days, Bruce went to a bar with the deliberate intention of getting drunk. * ¥ ¥ % It was dark when Livia and Charles drove up the circular drive- way to his Colonial-fronted house. ‘There were several telephone mes- sages for Fordyce—reporters from the papers had been calling all day to get confirmation of his resigna- tion from the studio. Fordyce smiled. There were no secrets in Hollywood. The white-coated Filipino servant conducted Livia up the thin spiral staircase and into Charles’ bedroom. She sat down before a large mirror over a mahogany chest of drawers, pulled off her hat and loosened her hair. She was tired. She powdered her nose and put on “new” lips. Then she studied the pictures of two beautiful women whose faces smiled challengingly wom the dressing-table top. “To Charles—I shall love you forever— Bernice” was the inscription on one. Livia wondered whether Bernice was one of the wives or merely a passing infatuation. The other portrait was of a youn; girl. “She can’t be more than 1 thought Livia. There was no in- scription on this. ‘There was another portrait by his low, much older than the others and like the young girl. “One of his wives,” concluded Livia. And, .of course, she was the mother of the girl. How strange it wouldbehbet-hemmothero{l girl who was only a few years younger. Livia had decided to ac- cept Charles as a husband. ‘The adjoining bathroom was al- most as big as the bedroom. It was green and cool, with silvered racks and taps. A silk dressing gown lay across a white leather armchair. She felt closer to Charles than at 133' time since they had known each other. She went downstairs and found him in an oak-beamed room which had a long bar on one side, and a brass rail. The Filipino brought in a tray of fried shrimps. They were hot and delicious. Livia drank from the long tumbler containing rum, and “a few other things” Charles told her. She sat on a high stool facing him and felt sophisticated until the liquor caught at her throat and she coughed. He took the tumbler from her. Not His Way. “I'll weaken it,” he said. She liked him for that. Fordyce was surprised himself. But he didn't make them drunk. That wasn't his way. The last time a girl had insisted on get- ting drunk hte had her driven home by‘ his chauffeur—greatly to her sur- prise. They had dinner by the candle- light in a dining room of shadowy wood and gleaming silver. The Fili- pino was assisted by a twin, and the service was noiseless and swift. Later they returned to the room with the bar and were sitting on a wide red leather sofa. Charles held her close and kissed her hair. “I'm crazy about you,” he whis- e wide bed. This woman was|pered. “Do you love me—a little?” “Yes, I do—a little,” she sald— and waited for him to say, “Will you marry me?” He kissed h again, passionately and possessively. Charles was unprepared for her sud- den withdrawal. “What's wrong?” he asked with- out getting up. There was nothing wrong. “I'm a fool,” she said. Her voice was hard. “Livia!” his voice was gentle. “I thought you were in love with me,” she laughed. “But I am,” he protested. She really was sweet and her eyes were beautiful With tears. “Do you want me to marry you? Is that it?” he asked in a matter-of-fact voice. She ‘was embarrassed. “No,” she answered hurriedly, “No, not that at all.” “Will you marry me?” he asked. She paused, then said: “Yes, yes, I will.” (Continued tomorrow.) Copyrisht 1942, by Shella Graham. Bulgaria is believed to have shipped 50,000 tons of strawberries to Germany this year. 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