The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-11-15
Published by Special ARRANGEMENTS with The
Chicago Tribune-New York News Syndicate.
Incorporated
Copyright 1885: By RITA WEIMAN
ON TWO PARTS-PART ONE)
GOSSIP FORTUNATELY INTER-
FERES WITH THE PRIVATE LIVES
OF TWO FAMOUS MOVIE IDOLS.

GOSSIP FORTUNATELY INTER-
FERES WITH THE PRIVATE LIVES
OF TWO FAMOUS MOVIE IDOLS.
"The artist agrees to conduct himself
with due regard to public conventions
and morals, and agrees that he will
no do or commit any act or thing that
will tend to degrade him in society or
bring him into public hatred, contempt,
shock, insult, or offend the community
or ridicule public morals or decency, or
prejudice the producer or the motion
picture, theatrical, or radio industry in
| general"
Mr.. Emil GrayStone paused, then
portentously repeated: "That will tend
to degrade him in society or bring him
into public hatred, contempt, scorn, or
ridicu1e."
Here he reclined in the fan backed
chair, folded plump hands across his
Pickwickian girth, and looked over horn
trimmed spectacles as a schoolmaster
might frown r%eprovingly at some re-
calcitrant pupil.
Frowning at Nan Royce was a deli
| cate Job. Prior to the motion picture
gods decree that, being the blonde
type, she must have a rim Of golden
curls framing her heart shaped face,
Mans hair had been unqualified red.
| color of autumn leaves, but rabid Irish
red. Nature had seen to it that hair and
eyes harmonized. At this moment the
volcanic eruption back of the dense
lashes was fire behind smoke. MI.
Graystone was not unacquainted with
these disturbances. When rumbles an
nounced their imminence he took ref
uge in q barricade of innocent help
lessneSS.
'You see how it is" He laid the doc
ument conspicuously open on the table
whose only other decorations were 3
mint julep and an immense copper bowl
Of orange peoples. "You see how 1t
is, my dear"
Mans laugh held the same eruptive
quality as her eyes. Mr. Graystone had
the uncomfortable sensation that II. she
let it go full strength the ceiling would
crack and fall. She tossed back her
short curls and sent a glance Of SUI
preme contempt down her nose until
it rested on the equatorial circumfer-
ence that constituted the producers
abdomen. Small as she was and large
as was Mr.. Graystone, n made MIN
feel as though that shriveling o con-
signed the entire motion picture indus
try to a thimble.
Mr.. Emil Graystone's innocent ges.
ture was frail defense. Nan pulled out
the points of the Byronic white collar
that spread from her full childish
throat. She tugged down her green
sweater with such emphatic hands That
it stretched over the green and brown
| checked skirt like the skin of a saus-
age. Her legs we're brown and bare
above socks and flat heeled brown OK
fords. Leaning against a pillar OF the
| Carrara marble fireplace she appeared
as tiny as a notified green moth IN the
absurd vaulted proportions OF her studio
living room. Yet she seemed to fill the
room as with a few strides she was at
the table, her fingers ripping the mo-
ton picture contract to shreds.
THAT for your morality clause!" She
went to the French window opening
on elaborate formal gardens and the
bits of paper fkttered -heavenward like
a school of startled butterflies. "You
think I'll let a few silly lines In a con
tract interfere with my happiness?"
did I say I don't want you to be
happy" protested the producer.
'"That's Just what it amounts to.
You're telling me that I haven't the
right to a woman's birthright"-and
the heartbroken note was n that en-
chained Mans pubic Celllng ME l
can't have babies"
"Have as many babies as you like
within reason" amended Mr.. Graystone
with righteous haste. What has that
got to do with what I'm telling you?
I'm only telling you"-his voice dropped
as though the room bristled with I'M
seen listeners you can't get mar
ried."
"And I'm telling you" flared back
Nan "that's exactly what Raymond and
I intend to do"
MI. Graystone took a monogrammed
tan handkerchief from the pocket OF
his tan belted sports Jacket. Laborious-
ly he mopped his glossy forehead ia
tooed with beads Of perspiration. .
"Is it my fault" he asked in a hurt
tone "is it my fault you come out here
four years ago and let everybody think
you're married already, me included? Is
it my fault when the two Of you get
famous, that they know you all over
the world for the happiest, most do