Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1942-12-11

years from a business college in
Nebraska where she had never, never
expected to become secretary and
friend to the famous Cecile Larimore.
And, now, she addressed herself in
long mirror with gilt frame opposite
the desk: "All this and prerequisites,
too. You're certainly ungrateful, my
dear. Drooling for love. too. Oh, be
honest!"
Perhaps it was the quick nervous
trip to the blue Pacific waters. Had
Cecile's nervous mood been catching?
Perhaps Joan's Oath year was the rea-
son for her sudden and unholiday de-
preston.
It is no brook, this Oath year, at
which maiden stands with reluctant
feet 1t is more like a turnStile. To
what?
Joan sighed She knew very well in
deed that it would never revolve her
into being an object of all mems de-
sire
The way all men reacted to Ceciles
entrance into any room. The rigidity
of shoulders, the hard stare of eyes,
the sudden red at nape of neck and
temples. Mems blatant awareness of
the flowerlike eyes and absolute grace
of body from narrow white velvet
shoulders to high white instep.
Joan sighed again. Back in Nebraska
she had thought rather we'll of her
own looks. So had other people. Her
parents. A bank teller. Also a dentist.
Out here-ah. Well, face it! Out
here, where lovelies grew on bushes
her widespaced Scotch-gray eyes were
as commonplace as the Jacks beam
stalk red geraniums which grew I'M
tended in back yards by the roadside,
and all over vacant lots in Mexican
neighborhoods.
Small comfort to be aware that in
places where brilliant bougainvillea
does not sprawl by the acre and
hibiscus does not grow beside mail
boxes, a NANCY, measly, two-by-four
geranium in five-inch brown earthen
pot gets love and attention.
Cecile entered.
Everything went off well, Joan?"
Perfectly, darling"
Cecile opened her bag and a small
white velvet box which held trio OF
what seemed pure blood drops.
"Sweet?"
beautiful! Mr.. Ryland 'phoned
Will you phone him"
Haven't time now. I'm late for the
retake. Phone him to meet me here
at seven-Oh no. I ride on Santa
Claus Lane then. Make it eight, when
I'll be back here to change"
Cecile went into the dressing room
where Annie waited. She emerged in
20 minutes in derby and riding boots.
"Only a few retakes, which means
three hours. If the man comes with
fox chubbies, tell him I'm sorry"
Annie departed presently to go to
the studio wardrobe department for
the powdered and scented white wig
of hundred curl and the silver
lame court costume which tonight
Cecile would wear as she rode along
Santa Claus Lane.
Joan became absorbed in her work.
The salesman brought the silver fox
coats, took a receipt, and left them
for Miss Larimore's selection. Joan
suspected that one was for herself.
Cecile WAS darling. A designers as
sistant came with a folio of sketches
of gowns for the stars next picture,
to be started on the 9th.
Item 10: CigaretS for encampments.
Item 10: Accordion for Cecile's
maternal great-uncle in New York.
It seemed hours later that she
realized an unexplained man in a gray
suit was in the room. A tall, lean, cold
eyed man with face too Drowned for
even a California sun.
He stood inside the door, like
ghost or process-server.
Startled, Joan demanded: who are
you? And what do you want?"
Something about his appearance, or
face, was alien to lot, to the industry.
to studio bungalows; and he did not
belong to Cecile's public or private
list.
II used to know Miss Larimore. I
wish to talk to her"
The man smiled thinly, seeing
Joan's uneasiness.