SOULMATES OF THE SCREEN.

Auckland Star, Issue 291, 9 December 1925, Page 20

SOULMATES OF THE SCREEN.

BY GAYNE DEXTER.

in his office when she arrived, several '. more to impress the utter futility of all creative effort. High production costs, i

CHAPTER XII. Instinctively coupling Blame witl those stories, whatever they were, Rhode looked up bo quickly that Peggy pretended to shield herself with a menu. "Whoa there! Don't shoot. And take thai Bill-Hart-death-befor'e-diahonoui look off your face. It's nothing. Onlj that Tressider swears you'll make th< wide world wobble over 'Leoparda , ant Doug gets a diploma for plain and fancj affection." She smiled from Bhoda t< Vaughn and impishly provoked him "Day dawns upon your neck, little boj Behold the blush. Better not marry hint Rhoda, or he'll never kiss the earn again." > • Only when Peggy forgetting her earlie resolve, returned to Blame at the dance' end, did Vaughn regain composure. " suppose Peggy gets more fun out of lif than any other girl in Hollywood," h said. A" dewy lustre softened thoda's eye "I could cry every time Peggy laughsbecause she d. n't want to. Pegg would rather be at home imagining thos two babies were really hers, but uy Jiei self she commences to think. Then she : afraid. I'd like to be a big brother i Peggy anu a mother to little Kathlee Glyn." : ' •«But—but why to Kathleen t" "She needs a mother. Kathleen an Peggy were the first girls I met in Hpllj wood. At the affair i you recall. They sat on each side of mi Sometimes you looked at us, but did yo see one woman or three? Three! Yet t mc there was only myself, peering int two magic mirrors of yesterday and tc morrow. I wonder why Kathleen neve came to see mc. after the leopard pawe her." f; Frowning, Vaughn shredded a carna tion and arranged the remm~;t s as th letter K. "I told her she was in the way, he admitted hesitantly. "You see she' only a kid, and while we're good pals don't want her around all the time." "But you're only a kid, too, Doug." "I like that! I'm a year older thai fou." "Which makes you ten years younger, 1 Rhoda laughed and beguiled the hur from hie eyes with the lilt of he shoulder, her mocking withdrawal am surrender when she could escape 01 further than the chair'e plush back. Gxaoee grew clandestine to her mood Bometiin eB Vaughn's straight glanc. aH*i W f ver aB toough he drank tot ■hmSu *l er; then Bhe W0 » Id diecove: ,I * she had de,i n P» Med eventless

Los Angeles. Only I didn't remember in ;ime. Otherwise I'd have offered you sixty instead of six hundred for 'Leoparda,' and been pretty sure you'd have taken it. Now trot along, girlie, and celebrate. Poppa's busy." CHAPTER Km. A brilliant little dinner party with four guests was Rhoda's celebration. She felt very gay, as spontaneous as her airy gown of nile green satin, tight of waist, full of skirt which lifted coquettishly in front,' -where a lacey petticoat peeped; over ail sheer orchid chiffon showered. She enhanced its youthfulnees. Piquantly frail she seemed to Douglas Vaughn, a figment of moonlight witchery when, having dined, they snuffed the candles and lingered by the windows. Night shimmered f outside. Lazy scents seeped in. "Vaughn could forget Kathleen Glyn and Peggy Pelt, and John Worth, so darkling that only soft gleam of shirt-front and starry cigar tip marked him. Rhoda had stepped from her role, i "Sweet innocence f Peggy gasped. "If Tressider saw you, now!" And Kathleen disappointedly, "Why—why—why, Rhoda!" She sought a leqpard and found a lamb. Worth had said nothing. Nor had Vaughn, but as others passed into the drawing-room he claimed an enchanted moment, whispering breathlessly, "You're wonderful. Why can't you always be like this?" * Rhoda raised her hand to touch his cheek but withdrew it self-defeated. "1 try to be," she said quietly. And magic of her presence * sublimating himj "I love you, Rhoda." "Which' Rhoda? Which Rn*oda?" hurried from her. "There is- only one." She kissed her fingers lor his lips and was gone from his arms. Leap of I heart and blood carried her away. He 'did not follow, but returned to the window where voices scarcely pierced the throbbing sphere in which he stood so small, and yet so masterful a mite. He bade stafs pirouette, the fiddler couched upon the crescent - moon to sweep his strings and lift his voice in madrigal. Crazy! Great! Great to be crazy! Great in the lighted room Jto watch radiance of purpling red and nile-green and orchid flit, pause, flit. A butterfly behind the half-closed gates; a woman when eager eyes and smile, gliding/through darkness, beckoned him oiit, yet cried him wait! . "Damn fool, Vaughn; damn'fool," he •whispered happily, and thrusting a hand beneath his coat clutched his body, enflamed. "Which Rhoda? Which Rboda?" he laughed hiddenly* "There i 8 only one." The other? The Leoparda on whdm he had precipitated himself, calling, "You are hot clothes, but flesh!" Dead? No! Never had lived except ;as hie own distortion. > Hot! Wine-hot! And heady. Kathleen, eummoning him. Futile little Kathleen. "You've been over theve an hour, Doug. you come in?" _ : "It's so cool here. So cool. "But Rhoda and Mr. Worth ate talking Wagner and all I know is'lrving Berlin. And I've got 1 no one to talk to. , "Try Peggy-"

star salaries, story shortage, and lesser ills had combined to crash Treesider. "And that's my last, gasp," he said despondently, pushing typewritten sheets across the table. "You'd better read it. ,. Out of words innumerable, figures leaped. She started to speak, but Tresidder cried industriously. "It'll send mc broke. The banks'will fall on mc and every producer from New York to Hollywood will tell his kids: 'Izzy, dere goes the poor .dumbbell what fought he could pay Jllioda Mirande seven hundred dollars each veek for fifty-two veeks, and still have a profitable bankruptcy.' Yup that's mc. H. K. Treesider. Soft. Fairy godfather to movie vamps. After I've paid you what'll I use for money? Eighty thousand gone blooey on 'Leoparda!' Never show a dollar profit, that piece of cheese. Now I throw thirty-seven thousand after it. Just a durn fool. I'll die poor." "But seven hundred dollars a week "My limit," he cut in. "I must be crazy with the heat to go that far. You'd better sign before I get sense or the bankers shoot mc." "Mr. Tressider," repeated Ilhoda firmly. "I'm going to finish' what I started to say. Seven hundred dollars a.week is——" "Use this • pen, Ilhoda. Sign on the dotted line, and seel mc straight to the poorhouse. I'll get Belhouse to witness for you. Poor, old Treseider. Goes broke to make . a woman happy and then she'- " : ■ '.'.. " "Mr. Tress— —" "Please, girlie. I'm an old man. I'm fat. My heart pumps when I think of all that money." And Rhoda signed. Belhouse entered to witness the signature and withdrew whistling, as he did on happy occasions, a sacred selection. Treseider blotted the sheets, folded one for Rhoda, placed the 'other in his drawer, took a cigar and visibly expanded. "Now, girlie, what were you trying to say a while back?" Ilhoda feigned deep thought, "Let mc see. • . ■'. Oh, yes." And cheerfully. "I tried to tell you that, after all your tears, seven hundred dollars was stwice as much as I expected." . . "Hur-r-r-umph!" . Treesider growled down Mβ cigar; at last grinned away regrets. ."I should worry. 11l make a mint out of "Leoparda' and even if we never produce another, I.can sub-lease you for fifteen hundred dollars a; week any time! like. Poor. ; old Treseider. Such a durned fool. He'll dip poor— maybe." . \ ■'■■■.'■ Rhoda'was happy enough to laugh. "You're a nice old bluffer.; . Iβ' 'Leoparda' really good!" ~ . "Figures/ion't lie," he answered prodding the contract with a stubby forefinger. . r "And do I still work with Douglas "Vaughn?" ' .' , . "Signed him up this morning, just for one more picture, though. His last performance may have been an accident. And sa-a-y," he. added, lowering his Voice mysteriously, "don't call mc. a bluffer. I remember you when you were playing a fiddle at Frazetti's cafe in

noticed I lived in Hollywood and wrote that, while my actiori-etuff was hopeless, if I'd turn out some confessions" of movie-life with plenty of pep and a moral-uplift to condone the —the raw spots, they'd , run them in real life revelations." . , I "Cured?" aeked Worth. | "Cured of- everything tout the one j big' idea to make every producer in j the world chase mc with a contract," i said ' Vaughn enthusiastically. "And ! now I feel big enough to make them, or j rather we feel big enough. Rhoda. and I. Well be a team—the team. I've j been dreaming it out all night. Just i two productions a year< two fine, clean j pictures with beauty in them, with ;j intelligence, with attraction that goes | deeper than cabaret scenes and this rot i of 'Leoparda!'" .1 "There's room for that. spirit, Doug. ' But will Tressider let you get away J from what you're doing? 'Leoparda' ! makes Rhoda a vamp " "But look at her now,," Vaughn | "You'll dress like that, Rhoda. In ; petals. You'll unfold. The screen will j see this." Hβ uprose in verve and opened < his clasped hands slowly as a burgeon- , ing flower. Then, discovering himself, | sat down apologetically. "Oh, I'm rant- j ing to-night; Seeing things." (Continued daily.)

"She's gone!" Kathleen came through the gates. "Why, 'you've been asleep. You didn't see her go." "Yes? Then I'm still asleep," Vaughn agreed. "And I'm drunk and disorderly and happy to heaven and — Kathleen, like a nice girl, please go and jump in the lake." "Gosh! , . , she muttered 'and found.no other, for his delirium. It drove her petulantly, forlornly, to Rhoda over whose chair she bent. "Doug's a pig and I've got nothing to do but listen and—and couldn't I go into your boudoir and play with your clothes and read your love-letters and dig up a thrill for myself?" ■ "Little baby wants a rattle!" Rhoda nestled her cheek to Kathleen's with impulse of motherment Worth, would have said, did not Rhoda seem too young to know.. co deep a mystery. "I like you best ac a vamp," Kathleen pouted. "When I get enough money 111 wear clothes that -say eh-ah! to all the men who've left their wives at home." Rhoda'saw Worth smile., "Well, 1 have plenty. You run in-; and play with them. Try*, them on—anything to be happy," she said and watched Kathleen disappear through the curtains. "I wonder where she will finish," said Worth who also watched. "Yourparty is breaking up, Rhoda. What's happened to Vaughn?" "Juet mooning," Doug called, and in a few seconds rejoined them. With the merest caress of her eyes Rhoda welcomed him. Sun ehone in their fathoms. Crisp and cool and secretly enkindled; half-shy in the way she turned her face from him and talked bo deliberately to Worth; within, delighted that Doug sat ,where she must pass, where chiffon, brushing his hand, must be her yearning if Kathleen called her to the boudoir. She hoped Kath- i leen , would. Worth pretended not to observe. "We were supposing that motion pictures went out of existence to-morrow, J and we had our choice of other profes-1 sione." . j "I've often thought of that—but from the point of myself going out of the movies, -I used to get discouraged; everything seemed useless; and I didn't fit," Vaughn answered. "I'd like to paint and be a jshastly failure according to my friends. To gamble my brush against butcher and baker and undertaker: wander and paint; be a prince for a day when I'd sold (a picture, a pauper for a month until I'd sold another." "Why v that is what " Rhoda exclaimed, but stopped. ;"I .once knew someone who did 'that," she finished. "Unfortunately, I can't paint," Vaughn continued. "I have, or used, to have, the actor's idea that I can write, however. Stories, not plays, though. Adventure, thrills, all the excitement films give everyone except the people who make them. When the studios closed last summer I tackled a sea-story. It earned twenty-six rejection slips. /I tried blood, V. ibtjtery and frozen north. They all came back. My ._backgrounds were bor-3 rowed, my characters dressed for the occasion. Finally; one publishing house - ' ■: V '■■■ \ .-.■"■-'• ," : V' ■■ .' .