3 i Ay ! a domestic to avoid being a burden on NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY © ing with expectancy that, he would make, some advance, some” gesture of ~ She accepted meekly. Something told * pictures and her specific value. Her nN [SOULS FOR SALE 0 am 0am-0- am 0J0 By Rupert Hughes WHAT'S GONE BEFORE Remember Steddon comes West to avoid revealing the result of an un- fortunate love affair to her father. The Rev. Dr. Steddon, a clergyman of kind heart but narrow mind, who attributes much of the evil of the world to the ‘movies’ and constantly lover; Elwood Farnaby, ,having died in inveighs against them. Mem, her an accident, at the advice of Dr. Bretherick, gives her bad cough as an excuse to get to Arizona and from there writes home that she has met and rmarried “Mr. Woodville,” a wholly imaginary person. Later she writes again to say that her “husband” has died in the desert. She takes a job as her parents. A fall prevents her be- coming a mother. , In Arizona she had met Tom Holby, a leading man in a mo- tion picture company, and through him gets the opportunity t» play a part in a desert drama. With tae conpany is Robina Teele, a star, fond of Holby and / Leva Lemaire, an extra woman. After her accidert, Mem becomes friendly with ¢ Mrs. Dack, a poor woman of Palm Springs, Arizona, and takes an interest in her bright little son. Terry Dack, who has a great gift of mimicry. Inspired by a letter from Leva. Mem plans to go to Los Angeles to take a job in a film laboratory. She gets a job in a film labtoratary, but loses it. She meets a Mrs. Sturgis from her home town, who talks of the evils of the movies and says the stars are forced to sell their souls. Mem then learns her mother is coming to visit her. Mem is worried about her finances. ’ . She sees a casting director, Arthur Tirrey, and abruptly offers herself to him in return for a job in the movies. {He tells her the talk about “paying the price” is all rot. Meanwhile the at- tention of Mr. Bermond, head of the company, is diverted to her and he de- cides to give her a chance. Soon she finds herself posing with Claymore as her director, obeying his commands in a kind of stupor. Mem’s father reads a publicity story calling her ‘the prettiest girl in America’ and writes a letter of pro- teste to his wife, and daughter, Mem’s fame begins to spread, and Claymore, the director, takes an unusual interest in her. He is infatuated with Mem but tries to be aloof and professional to hide the fact from the company. He neve rsaid anything, however, that he might not have said before a crowd. He never tried to ‘hold her hand or snatch a giss or filch an em- brace. Mem was constantly set quiver- ‘endearment, yet always unable to cide just what she would do if he did. But ‘he didn’t. y The picture and its final retakes were finished on a Saturday afternoon. There was an evening's idleness ahead. Clay nore asked Mem to take a drive in his car, a long farewell flight about the familiar and the unvisited roads. her that this drive was important to ‘her fate. Something was always telling her something. Nine times out of ten it was false, but she forgot the failures and recalled the coincidences. Noboby had yet asked Mem for her self-respect as an initiation fee or an isitiation rite. She was aid a weekly wage based upon her ability, her ex- perience, and her usefulness. ‘She was paid in the coin of the realm. Her price would rise and fall accord- ing to the general market for moving emotions and her beauty were com- modities, and Steddon stock would be quoted on the Soul Exchange as the demand for it rose and fell, as the bidders for it increased or diminished. Claymore had been chaperoned. by the company and his own reverence for discipline. But now she was outside his authority. Both were outside the Bermond inclosure. And they were as helpless together as any other twain whom nothing restrains or separates in the undertow of passion. They were two emotional people without a barrier. Among the countless things said about the hows and whys of women’s surrenders one motive seems to have been too much ignored, though it must have exerted a cast influence as women go more and more into the worlds of business, of art, and of free- dom with only themselves for their guardians. oGod sportsmanship, a hatred of smuggery, a contempt for too careful self-protection, a disgust for a holier- than-thou self-esteem — these are amiable attitudes of mind that make for popularity. To be a miser of one’s graces, a hypochondriacal coddler of one’s virtues, is to be unloved and un- lovable. So many a man will gamble, break a law, risk his career, his health, his life, get drunk, steal, slay and play fool rather than face the reproach that he is a mollycoddle, a Puritan, a prig, a Miss Nancy, a coward, a Pharisee. And many a woman who would not yield for love or luxury must have consented for fear of seeming of be overproud, stingy, cold, prudish, dis- obeying, superhuman, subnormal, un- sportsmanlike. Mem had been swept once beyond the moorings by a summer storm of devotion to young Farnaby, her first love. Now she was to feel her anchors cut adrift by the gracious gesture of good fellowship with a colleague. The Ocean Drive stretched along forest of palms like huge cocoanuts dark against the gaudy® west. The automomiles of every make were sO many that they were almost one long automobile, or at least a chain on which they slid as black beads. Their lights were coming out now like early stars pricking a twilight sky. For miles and miles the highway mounted and hugging the rocks to let pass car after car with lamps flashing in front of blurred passengers. ..In almost every “bay” where thie was a bit of space a motorist had stopped and drawn close to the cliff- side in the dark ,each car a wheeled solitude, ‘a love boat at anchor in ‘a strearn of cars ignoring and ignored. There was a strange influesce in this recurrent mystery. Everywhere lovers were hiding themselves in conspiciuous concealment. Mem felt disgust at the first dozen, amusement or contempt for the next fifty, tolerance for the next and— : Claymore did not speak of them or of anything else. He was too busy twirling the wheel end gauging the little distances between the edge of the cliff and the cars that whizzed past. Halfway up the canon his headlight ransacked a black cove and found no motor in possession of the estuary of night. And here, to Mem’s dumb as- tonishment, he abrutply checked his car, swung in off the road against the wall of ruble, and stopped bshort with a sigh of exaggerated fatigue. “Well,” he groaned, “this is a drive! I'll rest a bit if you don’t mind. Pretty here, eh?” From their cavern of gloom they looked across a fathomless ravine to a mountain on which the risen moon poured a silent Niagara. In the doz- ing radiance a creamy shaft of yucca stood, a candle blown out in a deserted cathedral. The night air was of a strangle gen- tleness, and the cars that shot past threw no light into their retreat. There wag a long, long silence that quite fail to enjoy. She could not twl whether she heard her’own heartbeats or his, but excitement was athrob to-= gether in the little coach that had brought them so swiftly to this remote seclusion. Claymore was dumb so long that Mem had time to cease to be afraid of what he would say, and to begin to wish that he would get it said, so that she could know what her answer would be. She felt a baffling uncertainty of herself. She could not imagine what she might do or say. She had not had much experience of men, but enough to know that before long he would initiate immemorial procedure that starts with an arm adventuring about a waist and a voyage after a kiss. : She told herself that the only right and proper thing to do would be to re- sist, protest, forbid and prevent at any cost the profanation of her sacred in- tegrity. If; necessary, she must fight, scratch, scream, escape, run away, ap- peal for help to any passer-by, or, as a ‘last resort, leap over the cliff and die for honor's sake. ut who was that She and who was that Herself that told each other so many things? Herself told She that Mr. Claymore could not be treated as an ordinary ruffian, an insolent, outrageous knave, a fiend. He had treated her with most delicate courtesy from the first, he had given her his admiration, his praise, his devotion, his mute but evident af- fection. ; If he loved her and revealed his love, she could hardly reward his pa- tient chivalry with prompt ingratitude and violence and fear. That would make her the insulter, not him. She must be very gentle with him and ask him kindly to forbear and not to spoil the pleasant friendship that she had prized. - If Mr. Claymore should propose mar- riage, that would make his caresses aceptable—according to some canons, though not to all. But he could not marry her and she did not want to marry him. ‘She did not want to marry anybody just now. She was a free woman in a free country. She was not free, however, from the witchery of this night, this 'mountain- ous beauty. She was not free of the disaster of desire, the hunger to be em- braced and gissed and whispered to, the need to be kept warm in the cold loneliness of the world. Her thoughts spun giddily in ner mind, all entangled with a skein of ro- mantic threads. ‘She was young and pretty and time was wasting her flowerly graces. Some one bloomed! ‘While she debated with herself, as doubtless innumerable women have plights, Claymore’s own mind was a chaos of equally ancient platitudes of a ‘man’s philisophy. At length he found the courage or Mem'’s waist and to draw her close to him. He was almost more alarmed than delighted to find that she hardly resisted at all. z He took her hands in his’ and whis- pered, “Your poor little hands are cold!” Then he kissed them with cold lips that he lifted at once to her’s and found them warm and strangely like a rose against his mouth. He was as much amazed as if hers were the first lips he had ever kissed— as if he had just invented kissing. Then in a frenzy of wonder he closed (her in his arms with all his power. He did not know that the wheel bruised her side, and neither did she. But se forgot to debate her duty or to think of her soul. She thought only of the rapture of this communion, and her arms stole around his neck and she clenched him with al 1the power of her arms. Mem, swooning, she knew not whither, was awakened from her mad rapture by @ low voice across her shorlder. “Sorry to interrupt you, folks, but I need your money!” She turned and found herself blinded by the glare from a motor halter. at a little distance. Dazled as she was, she could see the gaunt hand that neld filled Mem with a terror shel could not : the cruelty to slip his arm about| before her a black pistol with a glint outlining its ugly muzzle. : writhed along the steeps of precipies, (CONTINUED NEXT WEEK) ne ROM a vast reserve of knowledge, built up by experiences extending over many years of baking—each year contributing its fall share of education—each success utilized as a foundation for even greater accomplish- ments — the Spaulding Bakeries are now © happy to announce its crowning achievement and to present the masterpiece of the baking industry — HARVEST QUEEN BREAD. HARVEST QUEEN is not only a new bread—but a deliciously different loaf. Painstaking care in the : production of this new Spaulding bread begins with the careful selection of the wheat—only the heart of the nutritious wheat berry is used. The special wheat selected by Spaulding is rigidly tested. The blending 2 RE and milling process is very carefully controlled. Every 1 step in mixing and baking is directed by Master Bakers who employ a special process which produces a loaf of uniformly superior texture, even-grained with a crisp golden crust and as plump as a partridge. Rin ot pte Spaulding service to your grocer assures freshness —always. Order from your grocer today. You'll like HARVEST QUEEN. : ] FREE SALLY SEWARD’S RECIPE BOOKLET Contains many new and tempting recipes. Merely sign your name and address below and we will be glad to send your copy free. Name, Address City A PRODUCT OF SPAULDING BAKERIES Makers of the Famous Luxury Bread ou A
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers