interviewer; "suppose we talk only of that. Leave out all the rest--
my Beverly Hills home, my cars, my jewels, my Paris gowns, my dogs,
my servants, my recreations. It is work alone that counts, don't you
think? We must learn that success, all that is beautiful and fine,
requires work, infinite work and struggle. The beautiful comes only
through suffering and sacrifice. And of course dramatic work
broadens a girl's viewpoint, helps her to get the real, the
worthwhile things out of life, enriching her nature with the
emotional experience of her roles. It is through such pressure that
we grow, and we must grow, must we not? One must strive for the
ideal, for the art which will be but the pictorial expression of
that, and for the emotion which must be touched by the illuminating
vision of a well-developed imagination if the vital message of the
him is to be felt.

"But of course I have my leisure moments from the grinding stress.
Then I turn to my books--I'm wild about history. And how I love the
great free out-of-doors! I should prefer to be on a simple farm,
were I a boy. The public would not have me a boy, you say"--she
shrugged prettily--"oh, of course, my beauty, as they are pleased to
call it. After all, why should one not speak of that? Beauty is just
a stock in trade, you know. Why not acknowledge it frankly? But do
come to my delightful kitchen, where I spend many a spare moment,
and see the lovely custard I have made for dear mamma's luncheon."

Merton Gill was entranced by this exposition of the quieter side of
his idol's life. Of course he had known she could not always be
making narrow escapes, and it seemed that she was almost more
delightful in this staid domestic life. Here, away from her
professional perils, she was, it seemed, "a slim little girl with