The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-11-15
MORALITY CLAWS B
By Rita Wei,na,1

early days of French music hall appear
ance, with a team-the female member
OF which had snatched him as a hus-
pand when he was Just 18-Raymond
a captured the dreams of the so
called weaker sex.
He had come to America when he
was Is, chiefly to escape the tyranny Of
MS wife, and in less than a year had
found himself once more held captive
py a woman. But this time he had been
Gne aggresSor. They had met in a
Broadway production, he and Nan.
Both had walk-on parts. Both had am
bition. Neither Of them had a penny.
They had fallen madly in love in the
reckless nothing-to-lose fashion of the
pennileSs. They had eaten in cafeteriaS,
in one-arm lunchrooms, in hash houses,
or not eaten at all, as occasion de-
manded. They had slept in rooms of
cupboard proportions, rooms with sky
light ventilation through which snow
or not slept at all because they had
nowhere to sleep. They had drifted
along in the tide of today, certain that
tomorrow would evolve a miracle.
The miracle had come out of the
shadow world where only such miracles
can shine like mirages across the desert.
Today, as stars working separately,
each had a following that circled the
globe. Tomorrow-"Ah, tomorrow the
greatest miracle of ALL" Raymond told
himself as he took the marble stairs
two at a time. That was something to
put him in good form again. That was
irritations of the day. That was tn
ultimate of all dreams. He wa rorrar
tic-good! He was sentimental-fine!
He was a Frenchman-and he adored
Mainland he had always resented the
woman who had him bound by the law
and never in any other way. He had
paid her thousands in hush money.
Over him had hung the sword of fear
that she might any day descend upon
Hollywood and smash his life to splin-
tiers.
And now the sword was lifted. Nan
and he could do as they pleased. They
could build a nursery
AS he splashed around in the shower
the play of cold water on his brown
head banished WEAKNESS, impotence,
spray the fountain of his thoughts Stip-
ulated a sense of power. Nobody could
ever again hold a sword over his head.
He was 80, successful, healthful, be-
loved and master of his destiny.
Going into his bedroom he caught his
reflection in the mirrored wall. It was
by no means that of an Apollo. Tall,
braWny, the play of muscle showed
splendid strength. His features were ir-
regular, nose slightly arched, jaw dom
inant, mouth large, brown eyes alight
with zest for life. He grinned. It al
ways amused him to think of himself
as the idol of women fans ever to the
far corners of the world. He had never
Loo~ oL14 IN ,~Jorc&orl hic rNp,11o rifu
Often he questioned what brought the
bushels of fan letters. Nan insisted it
was a combination of his gifts as a
lover and his virility. But then Mans
estimate could hardly be called a point
of view limited to the screen.
He put on the white linen shirt and
trousers laid out by his French valet.
They felt cool and soothing against
his bare skin. Raymond never wore too
many clothes. He liked to feel his body
free. Freedom was a fetish. The only
bond he wanted in this world was the
one about to be forged tomorrow.
Madame was resting, his man in
formed him. Raymond went downstairs
without knocking at the door between
their rooms. Better let Nan rest until
a months breathing spell between pic
lures. Tonight they were booked for a
party at Hubert Van Dorn's. Mans IA
vorite director, Hubert, was Dutch and
Commemorative. Just as he refused all
invitations while a picture was in the
making, so he INDUCED a mania for
parties when work was completed. With
Dutch t~horoughness, festivities con-
tinued until dawn.
Raymond went out to the terrace and
| slipped a Yarmouth CaSsis. This par