Harper's Bazaar 1926-05

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icy LONDON | 50¢ 1O FR. IN PARIS ; Harpers Bazar ne “MAY mm 1926. dn this ( Sue, —_ ( l CVler v Stouy by ill ANITA LOOS, authev of “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ Chy IRVIN S.COBB “How tg Choke a Cat to Death Without Using Butter” “Oh,Miss Mifflin!” 44 RUPERT HUGHES | TAMPICO sy JOSEPH HERGESHEIMER /

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oF Van s “cam ; > : SpAyarorook Cilks frequent the most exclusive resorts at home and abroad We will be pleased to send you detailed descriptions of the models illustrated, all of which are made with Vogue Designs; and tell you where Darbrook Silks are on display at a shop convenient to you. Address Service DePpARTMENT, DARBROOK SILKS, 478 Fourth Avenue, New York City. DAVE LOD SITIAS © 1926 ScowarzenBacH, Huser & Co

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4 Number 59th Year Harpe

T's bazar

MAY 1926

Oo nn Avis “TOUS les modéles reproduits dans notre magazine sont la propriété de leurs créateurs. Les reproductions, imi- tations ou contrefacons méme particlles peuvent toujours entrainer contre leurs auteurs des poursuites de la part des créateurs et de l’ Association des Arts Plastiques et A ppliqués en France et dl’ Etranger. (i: rr) a, | ats \ \\\ \ 2) . \ | } = Ra | SS eo) by) | \y uh aa OY lX<\1\ 1) as Li! | | } y ae. . 8 ; =< t1___, LL “ae ae: 2 ( “\ NS <7 T ad | | = —1 ¥ | TT —q h | | = a £454 - — BA U ™:) This is Anita Loos. Wuy Do “GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES”? HAT is the question that seems tobe agitating dinner- table conversation these days. And what do the ladies prefer? And will Anita Loos repeat her first success with her announced second book on the same lively topic? The first of these questions we cannot answer. The second we refuse to answer, on advice of counsel, but the third, we Ww a have read the manuscript can answer and the answer “Yes!” Second successes are as rare as rare, but you will see that we are right. Seconds are usually rewrites, but not this one. The first chapters that appear in this issue of Harper’s Bazar are, it is true, a review of the old ground and the taking in of new, though familiar, territory. But after that! Well, we have read it, and we are here to tell you that Anita Loos isn’t asking any one to please remem- ber her past successes. She steps right out in front and does another one. Harper's Bazar is published monthly in the U.S. A. by the International vice-president; Joseph A. Moore, treasurer; Austin W. Clark, secretary, and dependencies, $4.00. In Canada, $5.00. In foreign countries, $6. first copy to reach you. Entered at the New Yor!- Harper’s Bazar is fully protected by copyright anc

subscription has expired it is best to renew it at once, using the blank enclosed. Post Office as second-class mail matter. Travel Number Cover by Erté— Page ‘Literary at Last,” Anita Loos Delineations by Ralph Barton. . ‘The Making of an Elégante,” Baron de Meyer's Paris Article “L’Invitation au Voyage”’ New Chapters in the Diary of Dainty Little Lorelei Lee, by 64, 65, 66, 67 Photographs by Baron de Meyer. 68, 60, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75 ‘“*How to Choke a Cat to Death Without Using Butter,’’ A Story of Big Business in One of its Most Touching Aspects, by Irvin S. Cobb Illustrated by Wallace Morgan... .. iar tesa “* New Shoes from Paris,’ Selections from the Ty pical Modes Worn at Cannes Photographs by Baron de Meyer and Drawings by Dynevor Rhys 78, 70, 80, 81, 82, 83 “Oh, Miss Mifflin!” The Story of a Fortunate Mistake, by Rupert Hughes Illustrated by Oscar Howard....... 84, 85 ‘The Clothes Worn at Cannes,” Marjorie Howard's Article Drawings by Bernard B. de Monvel . . Drawings by Reynaldo Luza... 86, 87, 88, 89 QO, OI, 02, 03, 94, 95, 96, 97 Snapshots from the Riviera................ 98, 99 La Comtesse Jeanne Polignac Drawn by Helen Dryden......... 100 “‘Fashion,”’ A Special Article by the Countess of Oxford and Asquith......... IOI “Tampico,” New Chapters in the Romance of an Adventurer in the Mexican Oil-fields, by Joseph Hergesheimer Illustrated by Henry Raleigh 102, 103 ““Counsel on Country Clothes,” by Marjorie Howard Drawings by Bernard B. de Monvel . . .. 104, 105 “‘\ Wardrobe for a Week-end,” Useful Suggestions for a Carefully Selected Wardrobe, by Marjorie Howard Drawings by A. Soulié...... 106, 107 Traveling Costumes and Accessories Drawings by Grace Hart . 108, 109, I10, III Frocks and Faces, A New View of Suiting One's Type, by Ei rté De signs PN Card oa rad k & whs eee saw ae Cee eee II2, 113 “Harmer John,” Concluding the Story of a Man Who Gave All He Had for Beauty, by Hugh Walpole TIilustrations by T. D. Skidmore 114, 115 Last Minute Sketches from Cannes ...... 116, 117 Gowns Lanvin Made for Raquel Meller pO er Pee eee shed ee 118 Hand Lettering on the above pages by Maude H. Langtree Magazine Company, Inc., William Randolph Hearst, president; C. H. Hathaway, vice-president; Ray Long, 119 West 4oth Street, New York ity. Single Copies, 50 cents. Yearly subscription in United States oo. (All subscriptions are payable in advance and at the full price.) When you receive notice that your When changing an address, give the old address as well as the new and allow five weeks for the Copyright, 1926, by the International Magazine Company, Inc. (Harper’s Bazar). i nothing that appears in it may be reprinted either wholly or in part without permission.

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HARPER’S BAZAR ° E CZ ole

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With plenty of cute scenes where I peep out at the leading man from behind a tree. LITERARY AT LAST New Chapters in the Diary of Dainty ELL, I am going to begin a diary again because I have quite a little time on my hands with nothing to do for quite a time. Only instead of it being my diary it is really going to be more the diary of my girl friend Dorothy. So the reason why I am going to tell the diary of Dorothy is because Dorothy’s life has always been full of a great lack of ideals and wasted opportunity and she is sure to come to no good end, which ought to teach girls a great moral lesson. But Dorothy has never seemed to learn any lessons, which is quite the contrary to me, because I always think of nothing but improv- ing myself. I mean, after all, I married one of the wealthiest gentlemen in America and any- body would think that would fill almost any girl full of ideals. But the only ideal Dorothy has, is the ideal of going around with anv gentleman she can find who was born without money and has not made any since. And she wastes all of her time and gets nothing out of life except fun. So if every girl who reads Dorothy’s diary would learn not to act like Dorothy, I would really feel that I had made the world a better place to live in. So the reason why I have all the time on my hands is quite a story in itself. Because after Mr. Spoffard and I became married we went into the motion picture profession and ‘pro- AUTHOR Little Lee Lorelei By ANITA Loos OF Delineations by Ralph Barton duced a film. So it was a great historical film about sex life in the time of Dolly Madison. So we had quite a little trouble because Mr. Montrose, the gentleman who wrote the scenario, wanted it to be full of nothing but psychology, while the gentleman who was the director seemed to want it to be full of orna- mental sets. So my husband, who is the famous reformer, is interested in uplifting all the film fans and he wanted it to be full of a great moral lesson. O I did not mind so much what it was full of, as long as it was full of plenty of de- lightful scenes where I would be chased around the trunk of a tree and peek out at the leading man. So then Mr. Goldmark, the gentleman who is the head of the film corporation said, why not be on the safe side and have it full of everything? So my film turned out to be a very very great success because it was not only a delightful love story, but it was very psychological and it also taught a great moral lesson and had some quite cute sets. For instants, the most psychological scene Dolly Madison had, took place in a mother-of-pearl bath tub. So the title of the film turned out to be “Stronger than Sex,” and the great moral lesson we taught was that people could always help it, if they would only stop and think of ‘“‘“GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES’”’ Mother. So we had Dolly Madison stop and think of her Mother just in time to learn a great moral lesson and not upset the board of censors. So of course, Dolly Madison was a Washing- ton girl so we had to go to Washington, D. C., to take some of the scenes, on account of his- torical accuracy. So we took Dorothy along and gave her a small réle to portray in the picture, because Dorothy was in her usual state of owing a large size bill at the Ritz. But Dorothy’s heart is never in her work and when- ever it was time to take a scene that had Dorothy in it, they could never find her, and the director would become quite angry and ask if he was engaged to make an artistic produc- tion for the screen, or spend his time hunting up the chauffeurs’ crap game to find Dorothy Shaw. I MEAN it is quite difficult at best, to take pictures in Washington, D. C., because just when we would select quite a delightful loca- tion in front of the Capitol and get the camera all set and everything was all ready to take the scene, Senator Borrer would come up and plant himself in front of the camera. And we had quite a hard time keeping all the other famous senators away from the front of the I mean their camera and ruining the picture.

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66 costumes were quite quaint but, after all, they were not in the period of Dolly Madison. So Dorothy was always talking with quite a few senators and she finally came to me and said: “You are right Lorelei. Keep the old boys out because this is a psychological picture and their mental state has not yet reached the period of Dolly Madison.”’ I mean sometimes Dorothy gets an idea that is really quite artistic. So after my picture was such a great success, we would have gone right on making more pictures—except for Something. Because I am very, very fond of kiddies, and I always think that the nicest career a girl can have, when she has married a very, very wealthy gentleman like Mr. Spofiard, is to have a kiddie, especially if it turns out to look like its Daddy. And Dorothy said, “You are right Lorelei. A kid that looks like any rich father is as good as money in the bank.” I mean once in a while Dorothy gets philosophical and really says something, and I think it is quite remarkable that a girl who can think of such a sensible remark as that, can waste her time like Dorothy does. And Dorothy says that any kiddie that looks like Henry should be handed the First National Bank as a gift. But Dorothy says she would stop at one kiddie if she was I, because she thinks that one is enough of almost anything that looks like Henry. But Dorothy never has any reverance even for Motherhood. I mean she said she hoped I was prepared to take the consequences of having a kiddie that resembles Henry, because the first time it gets a good look at itself in a mirror, it will probably turn on its own Mother. O OF course I had to give up the cinema for the time being. Because I would not be so dishonest as one married girl I knew in the cinema who signed quite a long contract to do a serial, without telling the film corporation, and before the serial was half finished it became very embarrassing because in the scenario she was not supposed to be married to anyone until the end of the last reel. So they had to take all the rest of the scenes showing her head HARPER’S BAZAR The gay literary gentle- men of what they call the famous round ta- ble. . . . So finally all the geniuses were present and then the conversation began. looking out of a window or sticking up over the top of a bush. And she got more close-ups than any girl ever got in a cinema before, but I do not think it is honorable to get close-ups by any such means as that. O HENRY said that while we were waiting for the little newcomer, we could live with his family in the suburbs of Philadelphia. But I never even seemed to think that Philadelphia itself was so amusing and when it comes to the suburbs of Philadelphia it is even less, especially when a girl is living with Henry’s family. And Henry has to stay at Philadelphia to be near his father who is ninety-two years of age and is very, very ill and I sometimes get quite discouraged and wish that he would get well or something. So Henry’s mother is there, too, and she really is not either amusing or instructive because of her brains being anemic. But her vitality is just as strong as her brains are anemic and she practically never gets tired of talking. I mean she is almost an example of what a Mother ought not to be, and Dorothy says that if we could only arrange for all song writers to meet Henry’s mother it would be the quickest way to bring about a dearth of Mother songs. And as far as Henry’s sister Ann is con- cerned, it is almost impossible for a girl like I to have anything in common with a girl like her. Because her entire life is devoted to wear- ing a man’s collar and necktie and a fedora hat that should have been sent to the cleaners some time ago. And she became fond of motor

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for MAY 1926 trucks when she was in the war. So she was the girl who handled all of the trucking prob- lems when we produced our cinema. And now she and another girl, who is more her type, have thought up an idea to go out to Holly- wood and open up a motor truck agency to rent trucks to all the film companies. Because they are such experts that any time they go to the movies and see the wrong kind of a truck in a scene, it spoils the whole production for them, no matter how artistic it seems to be in other ways. For instants, if a cinema has the French type of a truck in a German scene, it makes them boil. So they are going to go out to Hollywood and get a collection of every kind of trucks in the world and straighten things out. But even if Ann was going to Hollywood, it still left Henry’s mother and father in the suburbs of Philadelphia, not to mention Henry himself. O I had to think up a way to come to New York. So I thought up the way with the aid of a scientific medical book called ‘ Wait- ing for the Little Stranger” which said you should think of nothing but beautiful thoughts and look at a lot of art. So I told Henry that there did not seem to be so much art in the suburbs of Philadelphia, and I thought we owed it to ourselves to do as much as we could for it. Because, after all, Henry’s own family were all born in the suburbs of Phila- delphia, so why not give our kiddie a chance. But Henry was quite disturbed because he said his father had spent years and years collecting nothing else but art. And it really is true that there are over 200 small size dresden statues in the drawing room alone. And there are eleven glass cases full of small mineatures, to say nothing of the large marble statue of a baby having a bath and seven piano lamps. So Henry said he did not see why I needed to go to New York with all that in my own home. So then it was Fate that stepped in. Because Henry became mixed up in a very trying law suit over a building that Henry and his father once had a contract to build for the state of Pennsylvania, that fell down much sooner than they expected. So then the state of Pennsylvania said that Henry and his father put decomposed granite where they should have put marble and it keeps coming up in the law court all the time to annoy Henry. So whenever it comes up, it takes practically all of his time and it is a very, very great nuisance because it takes Henry away from re- forming things, where his heart really lies. So by that time, I decided to take up litera- ture again because I decided that I had better keep my brains as active as possible, so it would not take after Henry’s side of the family but would be more of a genius. But so long as I took up literature I told Henry it would be a very, very good thing to be in New York where most of the literature was. And, after all, Henry was so busy with his law suit that he hardiy had any time for home life. And even when he was at home, his mind seemed to be preoccupied by the subject of decomposed granite. O I told him if he would let me come to New York I would not even stop at the Ritz, but I would go straight to the Algonquin Hotel which is famous for being the place where all the great literary geniuses have their luncheon. Because I have read quite a lot about the Algonquin Hotel and practically every writer who eats his luncheon there, is always writing that that is the place where the greatest ; He ee } l A t a2! Seseee i " =: ata a mame t Ton ot COE te a | CI ef A at inimiaimiiim a oH oto £E Hee t ini tty Pthettont T TI | Dot « } \ \_\ ’ \ Ps Sek —— ps aie . A Henry’s sister 9-4 P knows all about motor trucks. 67 writers eat their luncheon. And I told Henry that it would be an education in itself to even be under the same roof with them, and that he could come up twice a week and see me and I would always be able to stop writing long enough to have a visit with him. So he finally agreed, and when he agreed to let me leave the suburbs of Philadelphia and come to New York, I could almost have kissed him. O THEN Icameto New York and took a suite at the Algonquin Hotel because my mind is really very serious about being literary and I think it is wonderful when a girl can live where she can see all the literary geniuses cat their luncheon every day. Because sooner or later she is bound to overhear them say some- thing. So Dorothy is in New York too. Because in spite of all of her laziness Dorothy has gone to work as a dancing partner. But I really think that it is not so much because she loves work, as it is because of a gentleman called Gerald who does not know how to do anything else but dance, and he could not get a job without a partner. And as Dorothy is madly in love with him, he persuaded her to do it and they have a position at a night club that is trying to evade paying the police to keep open, and the law is sure to step in sooner or later. So that is part of the bad end that Dorothy is sure to come to. So Dorothy came to pay me a visit and I told her all my plans to be literary and have sweet thoughts and only read beautiful novels and beautiful poems. So Dorothy said ‘You better slip in a page of Ring Lardner once in a while. Because if the little stranger is a boy, he might grow up to be a milliner.” So then I told Dorothy that not only was I going to read but I was also going to write and I told he: I was going to write the diary of her life. So Dorothy said “If the story of my life regis- ters on the offspring you needn’t worry about the millinery. Because he will probably grow up to be a stevedore.”” Because even Dorothy realizes that the story of her life is nothing but one long series of unrefinement. ~ O I explained to Dorothy that I would probably not be moving in her circle so much, because I was only going to bother with people who do things that are literary. So Dorothy said that she was going to a partv that was being given by a famous literary writer called Mr. George Jean Nathan at a place in Jersey, where they have the kind of beer that is made without ether. And she said it would be full of quite a few literary gentle- men called H. L. Mencken, Theodor Driser, Sherwood Anderson, Joseph Hergesheimer and Ernest Boyd. But I said, if they are so literary, why do they go to a place like Jersey, which is chiefly noted for being inartistic? But I gave Dorothy the benefit of the doubt because, after all, I did hear that one of them wrote quite a famous novel once. So I went. But if any- body thinks that what they held in Jersey was a literary salon, they would be very much mis- taken, because it was really the reverse. I mean they did not even mention their literary work, and nobody could have heard them if they had. And I think that when literary people wish to have a musical evening, they should buy tickets to the opera, instead of dropping nickels in an automatic piano and singing the kind of songs that they sing. So I am not going to waste my time with any literary people of that kind. I mean I might have known enough to have my doubts about the literature of any gentlemen who spend their time with a girl like Dorothy. But the next day really made up for every- thing. Because the next day I met all the famous critics who tell (Continued on page 164)

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HARPER’S BAZAR aD mnart Siiggage Kermes YQ, acelin TJ (aia Sane CQLegny

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jor MAY 1926 Posed by the 18 rue Vaneau, Paris. Y DEAR COUSIN ALICE: I've received your letter of reproof. Neglected, possibly, but by no means for- gotten! Why should you blame me, anyhow, after all the trouble I’ve taken to make your last visit over here as pleas- antasI could? Don’t I deserve more than the good wishes you sent me at Christmas time? However, let’s drop this delicate subject. Why, if you are going to spend the summer at Marblehead, do you require so much fashion information? Monthly informa- tion, too. Why not weekly? The Paris fashion brain, my 7 dear Alice, is by no means a mechanical, revolving machine, turning out new styles systematically, continually, and un- relentingly. To start with, what is it you mean by the hat of the month? If the leading Paris modiste (a term claimed by half a dozen) were to launch new shapes every few weeks, I might grasp your meaning, for you can’t possibly be referring to those models which are regularly furnished to foreign buyers, on what might be called the “instalment plan,” and are nothing but variations on earlier season themes. Were modistes really to launch series of new creations every month, what would become of the smart women the world over, who wear only the latest models? Do you seriously believe that the well-dressed Frenchwoman discards in November what she has ordered in October, and again in December what had been considered fashionable in November? If you do, you must be disillusioned at once as to Parisian elegance. Parisian elegance does not depend on “lightning changes.” Fashions have always been the result of a few women’s fancies. Elegance, therefore, is but the aristocratic expression BARONESS DE MEYER ve —— THE MAKING OF | ceorrol.— ‘5 ———— REBOUX AN ELEGANTE Baron de Meyer Insists that It Takes Forty Years to Make an Elégante, and Gives Some Definite Reasons Why of these same women’s good taste. In America a habit prevails of buying one’s hats ready-made. Buying a great number of them is therefore merely a matter of extravagance, while in Paris, hats having to be fitted to one’s head and shaped to one’s face, the acquiring of head-gear becomes quite a tedious performance. I have known it to take fully two weeks before the coveted treasure was ready to be sent home. Is it likely, therefore, that any sane woman would undergo the ordeal of being fitted for half a dozen shapes each month, twelve times a year? Most certainly not! Smart Frenchwomen do not buy their spring hats before March nor their winter hats before October. For commercial reasons, a few new models make an earlier appearance, but specially favored clients are warned by their modiste not to buy them. ‘Why, dear madame, these premature creations are not meant for such as you. They are tryouts we get ready for early exportation. Foreign buyers, at all times of the year, expect us to provide novelties for them. So we provide them with merchandise for their trade, which, however, does not constitute the ultimate mode.” The latest fad of the very small nucleus of well-dressed women is to adopt one style of.hat, at the beginning of each season, and repeat the same shape ad infinitum. Should, as the season progresses, new dresses be added to one’s wardrobe, the same kind of hat, with possibly a slight variation, is ordered, for it would hardly accord with the maxims of chic for one woman to appear in variedly shaped hats within a given period. Such periods generally extend from October to March, from March until June, and again from June to September. How- ever, when the right moment for renewing one’s hats has

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arrived, it is even then not ultra chic to adopt radically altered styles. Variations on familiar themes are all a really well- dressed woman attempts. The next important subject you mention in your letter is traveling clothes. I am to give you my views on the most “perfect traveling costume in the world,” a problem even very experienced dressers often fail to solve successfully. Since receiving your letter, I’ve thought the matter over very care- fully, and what I mean to tell you about traveling clothes is now gradually taking shape in my mind. Here are a few of my conclusions. O START with, there are quite a number of well-dressed women who still cling to the mistaken notion that an old sports suit and a motor coat are “good enough” for the railway carriage or, as they say, “for dust and dirt.” They are all wrong. Though I am glad to think that American women have given up traveling in black or navy taffeta, which is supposed “not to catch dust,” it seems to me many of the ladies I meet on European vacation trips during the summer are still far too dressy. They produce an impression of wearing out clothes which by now should have been discarded. There- fore, in case, my dear Alice, you should have forgotten my last year’s advice, remember ‘‘no old clothes for traveling.” Whatever you do, don’t travel in specialized sports attire, even though it may be comfortable, for worn at the wrong moment even the smartest looking garments have an air of not being chic. Try to look your best, your smartest al- ways, for all journeys contain an element of adventure, when the unexpected may happen at any time. Who knows who may turn up and whom one may meet; in fact, the important matter of producing a first impression should always be borne in mind. Don’t ever be afraid of spoiling your new clothes. Such risks have to be faced, and are often worth taking. Nor should you consider economy when a question of elegance is at stake. It never pays. Though dust and dirt cannot be avoided on a railway journey, it stands to reason that the more your traveling outfit is spick and span at the start, the less disastrous will be your aspect on reaching destination. Furthermore, your traveling clothes need never crumple if you take trouble to select the right material. Though all materials crease to a certain extent, try to choose the one which creases least. But what on earth are traveling clothes, I hear you ask? They are what might be called comfortable tailored clothes specially suited to the one and only purpose of traveling; in fact, unsuited to be worn on any other occasion. They should be neither formal nor conspicuous, but neat and trim, yet individual, without the least attempt at eccentricity. To be avoided are all kinds of dressy clothes, especially silk, satin, or velvet, and as to color, all dark shades, especially black. Neither should flowers, feathers or other trimmings be used on one’s traveling hat, which should be plain and unadorned. With buff as a foundation, and bright colors as relieving touches, you will be fairly safe. Y ADVICE for a suitable traveling dress is to have it made in a checked woolen material, or in a heather mixture. You will find these the most suitable textures for train wear. They hardly show any dust and do not crease. Your checks should be selected with discretion. They should be neither too loud nor too subdued, though remember all dull checks are dowdy. They are not chic. For summer wear, try mohairs, in beiges or grays. They are cool and practical, though if manufactured with artificial silk they are apt to crease. Tailored blue linen, the color of French workmen’s overalls, also looks smart in summer weather. I strongly recommend skirts which are neatly piaited. They insure free movement for getting in and out of railway carriages (the kind of skirt Monsieur Lelong calls “‘kinetic’’). Always bear in mind the impossibility of having your skirt pressed while traveling, so remember to have your plaited skirts of the kind which don’t get unplaited by sitting upon them for any length of time. Even better is to have your skirts plaited front and sides only. A long, sweaterlike crépe blouse is serviceable and cool, both for summer or winter wear in overheated trains. Over this you should wear either a short coat to match the skirt or a sleeve- less waistcoat with cape attached. For warmth, however, nothing is more practical than a tweed ulster, either straight or belted in tones of beige and brown. Such a coat should, of course, be unlined for summer, but looks very smart with a lining and collar of nutria, to harmonize with the tweed for winter. A small felt hat, preferably beige (the season’s new “ Gigolo’’) is all you would ever need in the way of head-gear. A pair of low-heeled tan leather oxfords, sheer silk hose of a shade re- sembling sun-tanned flesh, and antelope pull-over gloves, com- plete a very presentable traveling outfit. You may wear your short string of pearls while traveling, but if a long string is worn slip it inside your blouse and let it be visible at the throat only. A wrist watch set in diamonds is permissible, but don’t wear quantities of jewelry on a journey, for though one often comes across women who do, it is con- sidered to be in doubtful taste in every country. What appears at first sight to be but a mere detail, the muffler, is in reality one of the most important finishing touches which make up a costume de voyage. Mufflers should be fairly short, and to be thoroughly up to date, like the ones men wear. Though carefully studied, there should be a careless, loosely tied aspect about a muffler counteracting the severe character of the correct traveling outfit. It-adds the much- needed touch of feminine coquetry without which no tailored costume is attractive. Only useful ornaments are admissible on a journey. They must add to one’s comfort, in which case nothing can be considered useless. Remember, Alice, always to aim at trans- forming even objects of ordinary usefulness into things of beauty, or at least of elegant daintiness. Even your traveling rug, either lined with a flat fur or unlined, should harmonize with the color of your overcoat, so as to produce a good-looking ensemble. Serviceable rugs are made of English shawl materials or tweeds in heather mixtures, in beiges, browns, and grays. Tan leather edgings or straps are about the only kind of decora- tion such rugs may boast of. —>06s— O WOMAN should travel with poorly selected, untidy- looking hand luggage, for she would instantly be con- sidered dowdy, even were she neatly dressed. The smartest looking hand luggage is at present the kind made fashionable by the Maison Hermés. It consists of sets of bags, generally a valise, two bags of graduated sizes, of the early Victorian carpetbag shape, and one of the recently adopted soft and pliable leather rolls which come in handy for anything in the way of odds and ends. You may make your choice between a set of pigskin bags and wonderful smooth black leather, or you may select a super quality of smooth brown leather of an even better quality, in spite of its costing a great deal. The smartest kind of hand luggage is, of course, provided with the popular nickel-plated Hermés fasteners, and the choicest bags are lined with brilliantly colored and very soft leather. Jade-green looks well in a black bag, and a coral lining is par- ticularly beautiful with brown leather. Small satchel-looking hand bags, the kind most women carry and which contain money and makeup, look charming, even on a journey, when made of brilliantly colored leathers. The most suitable color with the popular drab traveling outfit is bright red. Some of these satchels are made in serpent and lizard skins, others of a white and tan long-haired cowhide. These, however, are novelties which look well when made into small bags, but are too recherché for the larger kind of luggage. I shall next week send you a list of the clothes I have ordered for you, including explanations as to which hats are meant for which gowns, for as the ensemble habit of gowns, wraps, hats, et cetera, matching in color is somewhat on the wane, you may get confused. —=-=-— A NEW mode, fraught with infinite danger for those possessed of doubtful taste, is dawning. It consists of trying to achieve harmony with apparent carelessness; appear- ing not to study effects; not matching one’s hat to one’s gown; attempting to produce pleasing results by contrasting colors; indicating, by subtle touches, that what may appear to be a daring combination has not been achieved accidentally but is thoroughly up to date and very chic; demonstrating that the hat which, to an untrained eye, may seem unsuited when worn with a certain gown can not be worn with any other; making an effort—but it’s useless to pursue this theme, as Miss Howard tells me she is writing on this very subject, calling it ‘‘the new point of view in ensembles,” for this issue of Harper’s Bazar, so you'll be able to read for yourself what she has to say. *“What does the mode consist of?”? my dear Alice, is an absurd question to ask of me. How can (Continued on page 73) HARPER’S BAZAR SAVE a WEST

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for MAY 1926 [ name eae eee DEMEUERE ‘3 hue )ptecot — ff Wealte \ p . Q \ Fave Regny _/

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HARPER’S BAZAR ee lack ano Oy Bite . 5 iL _Sézenn o lyalbe ro CPE OS SE ae RI

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I possibly make it clear to you‘in half a dozen words? Any- way, what earthly benefit can you get out of the knowledge that skirts are still worn short but not extremely so, and that they should be longer when made for tall women; that long skirts, however, are decidedly eccentric. S-&a—— i fOWEVER, as an indication of the general trend of fashion, 4 +. it might be useful for you to know that the much heralded attempt to reinstate the normal waist-line has so far not suc- ceeded. Women are so used to the low demarcation that any attempt at a radical change makes them rebel. Yet, in spite of this conservative attitude, the position of the waist-line is far less immovable than it was a year ago, this being especially noticeable in models with clinging chiffon bodices and full vaporous skirts. A modernized Directoire line has recently made its appearance dans la trés haute couture. This. however, is but a promise held out for future seasons, for at present women do not willingly sponsor daring innovations. You may also be interested to know that capes of every imaginable kind this season reign supreme, plain ones as well as the highly complicated and artistic variation. As to your inquiry, ‘‘What is your preference in evening gowns?” I have an answer ready at a moment’s notice. Mous- seline de soie, by all means; plain Georgette next, and white satin. Flat, very shiny spangled textures are still chic, and all houses, save one or two, show glittering spangled embroider- ies. However magnificent they may be, these bore me terribly. A really elegant woman, I mean elegant in herself, in simply made clothes, with beautiful jewels worn with distinction, makes any woman wearing glittering textures look cheap. You asked me to tell you of the most exciting fashion feature of the spring season. Let me see—well, I suppose it’s Reboux again, with Lucienne as creator, who holds the record for the most sensational note of the spring mode. It takes the Tene PE ce mebiee shape of a Pierrot ruffle made of a beautiful quality of ostrich feathers, which is all the rage at present. Most of the new Reboux hats, with the exception of a model called “* Méd- itérranée”’ (a casquette béret of navy blue felt, with a Medi- terranean blue grosgrain band across it), are nothing but varia- tions of the draped felt shapes. These seem to be very firmly established for the time being, at least. Since, however, os- trich feathers at present in the guise of neckpieces have come to stay, hats are being shaped to rise neatly silhouetted from among the soft feathers framing the face. Lucienne, always her clients’ best friend, insists on all gowns and coats to be slim looking, narrow, and youthful, in order to counteract the voluminous and dressy appearance of the feather collar. My advice to you, Alice, is therefore, have a plain navy Georgette gown made on Chanel lines, and equally plain navy crépella or kasha coat, as elongating as possible, on which your big ruffle of ostrich feathers, in matching navy blue, will stand out effectively. HE novel and chic Reboux note, however, which you must not omit, is to introduce a touch of, let us say, bright red, or Bordeaux, feathers, placed right in front or at the side among the navy plumes. It produces a ravishing effect, the only note of color of the ensemble, the hat being, of course, plain navy blue. Madame Leroy of Fourrures Max shows a squirrel wrap dyed an écaille blonde, which in itself is an exceptionally new garment; however, combined with ostrich feathers of exactly the same shade, it becomes one of the most outstanding crea- tions of the season. Doesn’t this strike you as new? These, my dear Alice, are but a few of the new combinations which have been recently revealed to us, but believe me, there are others. Only, as this letter becomes endless, you'll have to wait till I write again to hear more of the rehabilitation of the plume d’autruche. Affectionately yours, GAYNE.

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HARPER’S BAZAR Ser Sa eS eee PO ETRE ed RE 3 , if F 4 a “i 4 } | & | F Hi i \4 a a a : rn | \ | ‘ A 5 4 rs MODELE DEPOSE —_ _ filer Meri, a4 ia u, _ , way DK “ee

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1926 MAY for 11 ICh ate Cc) ru? ho at & t — A NCM WL)

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HOW TO CHOKE TO DEATH WITHOUT USING BUTTER big Business in One of its Most Touch ing « 4 spects By Irvin S. COBB Illustrations by Wallace Morgay HIS writer has always contended that the ability to make a great individual fortune is not necessarily an ability based on superior intelligence—that in the case of the average multi-millionaire it merely is a sort of sublimated instinct, in a way like the instinct of a rat-terrier for smelling out hidden rats. The ordinary dull-nosed dog goes past a wains- coting and never suspects a thing; then your terrier comes along and he takes one whiff at the bottom of that baseboard and immediately starts pawing for his prey. He knows. It’s his nature to know. Yet in other regards he may be rather an uninteresting creature, one with- out special gifts And so it is with many of our outstanding dollar-wizards, or at least so it would appear to those on the outside looking in. They differ from the commonplace run of mortals only in their ken for detecting opportunities to derive dividends from quarters which we cannot dis- cern. Peel off their financial ratings from them and they ‘d be as the rest of us are—or even more so. OW Mr. E. Randall Golightly, the pressed brick magnate, would impress you as being like that. When it came to amassing wealth—ah, but there was where he could show you something! Otherwise he offered for the inspection of an envying planet the simple- minded easy-going unimportant personality of a middle-aged gentleman who was credulous, who was diffident in smart company, who was vastly ignorant of most matters excepting such matters as pertained to his particular specialty which, as just stated, was getting rich and richer. Out in the world away from his ofiice and his plants, he had but little to say, thus partly concealing the fact that on the grammar side at least his original education wofully had been neglected. He was quiet and self- effacing, also he was decent and he was kindly. But when a smart voung man representing Achievements came by appointment, asking for an interview on the general subject of his “ a4 ay %, aw % ee 7 \ >. HARPER’S “So willingly enough Mr. Golightly talked, giving dates ana figures, and the young scribe took notes and still more notes.”’ early struggles, Mr. Golightly became properly flattered and suddenly vocal. was a monthly magazine devoted to purveying to the masses recipes for attaining success in Achievements business, the arts, the crafts, the sciences and the professions, the theory of its editors being that the youth of the land, reading therein how such-and-such leaders attained their present prominence, would be inspired to step forth and do likewise. Deservedly it had a large national circulation. Rotarians all over the country bought it regularly and efficiency experts pre- scribed it for their clients as doctors prescribe medicine for ailing patients. Mr. Golightly was no bookworm, but he knew about Achievements, as what seasoned go-getter did not? The project outlined by the caller ap- pealed to him. It resuscitated a drowned vanity in his inner being. So willingly enough he talked, giving dates and figures, and the young scribe took notes and still more notes and then went back to his desk and wrote and wrote and wrote. He wrote to the extent of several thousand words and his pen was tipped with flaming inspiration. He had such a congenial theme, such a typical Achievementalesque topic. Lord, how he ripped off the copy! N DUE time a messenger brought to Mr. Golightly sundry long printed slips of an unfamiliar aspect called ‘‘ galley proofs.”’ Mr. Colightly read these through, making a few minor corrections. He to!d nothing at home regarding what was afoot; he was saving it up as a pleasant surprise for Mrs. Golightly and the two Misses Golightly. Anyhow, he had got out of the habit of telling at home what hap- pened at the office. One day in advance of publication date he received a copy of the issue of the magazine containing the interview with him. It was more than a mere content. Practically it dominated the number; it led everything else. And it was more than an interview. It was a character study, a eulogy for honest endeavor, a tribute to outstanding performance, an example to oncoming generations—and fully illustrated with photographs and drawings by a staff artist. It was what they called in the Achieve- ments shop a whiz and a wow. A’ {APPY pride, almost a boyish pride, puffed up Mr. Golightly as he walked into his thirty-thousand-a-year apartment on upper Park Avenue that afternoon after business hours. A terrible and a devastating humility deflated him an hour later when, without wait- ing for dinner he escaped thence to his club, there to sit through a grief-laden evening in a secluded corner of the reading-room. Regret filled him; elsewise he had a sort of punctured look as though all joy and all hope of future joy had seeped out of his body through many invisible leaks. As for domestic peace, future fireside com- fort, agreeable life in the collective bosom, if any, of his family—ha, ha! To himself within he laughed a hollow despairing laugh. He began to understand why strong men in their prime might look favorably upon suicide as an escape from it all. In his ears, like demoniac echoes, rang the semi-hysterical laments of his women-folk. There was, to begin with, the poignant memory of what that outraged woman Mrs. Golightly had cried out: “Wouldn't it be just like him to disgrace us this way? I ask you, wouldn’t it?”’ Ignoring his abased presence she was addressing her two daughters, her deep voice rising above their berating tones. “What else could we have expected from such a father and such a hus- band? Does he think of us? Does he give a thought to my efforts to be somebody ever since we moved here to New York? Does he care for all my scheming to get you girls into really exclusive society? Or to get you married off into the right set? Do our ambitions mean anything to him? No, No, NO! What does he do? To gratify his own cheap cravings for notoriety he lets this shameful detestable vulgar rag expose us before the whole world. We'll be BAZAR

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him to disgrace us this wavy? the laughing stock of everybody. Can you hear what the Hewitt Strykers will say when they read these awful admissions?” In her agony, the poor mother waved aloft the clutched copy of Achievements and seared him with a devastating sidewise glare. “Can’t you hear the Pewter-Walsbergs gloating and snickering when they find out that your father’s first name is Ephraim and that he used to be called ‘Eph’ for short and that he started life as a day-laborer and that then he worked at the trade of a bricklayer and that secretly all these years he’s been paying his dues in a dirty old union and carrying a dirty old union card—a thing which even I, knowing his com- mon tastes as I did, never suspected before! But here’s a picture of it printed in facsimile to prove it!’’ And now she beat with a frenzied forefinger on a certain page of the offending periodical. ‘And then he goes on to tell how with his own hands he made some of the very bricks that went into the office-building where And then—then—then—oh, how can I ever hold up my head again?—then he says that when we were first married we had to live on twelve dollars a week and do all our own housework and that I even used to wash out his undershirts!”’ “Oh, mommer!’’ This was the senior Miss Golightly, bemoaning their ruin. ‘And well may you say ‘Oh, mommer’— his office is now! -with “Mrs. Golightly had cried out: ‘Wouldn’t it be just like I ask you, wouldn’t it?’” the invitations out for your formal début next week!” “Oh, popper!”’ exclaimed the stricken Miss Golightly. In the shock of the moment she had temporarily forgotten about her scheduled début. ‘Oh, popper, how could you do such a thing to me!”’ “And Evelyn here expecting to join the Junior League—what chance has the poor child now? How can she ever forgive you?” “Oh, oh, oh!” screamed the younger Miss Golightly, not addressing any one in _par- ticular. It was at this point that Mr. Golightly had grabbed his hat and clamped it on his degraded head and fled from this house of vain and utter repinings. ATE at night he crept in, almost as a bur- glar might creep in, and sought the seclu- sion of his room, not daring again to face his three women. Early next morning before any of them had risen to intercept him with her further lamentations, he crept out again and at his office spent a haunted forenoon. Every time his telephone buzzed he flinched. And when, following lunch for which he had abso- lutely no appetite, the girl on the private switchboard rang to tell him Mrs. Golightly herself was on the line he flinched more than ever as he told the exchange to plug in the connection, then braced himself for the worst. If his daughters were resolved never again to speak to him, so be it. At least he would take the blow standing. If it was to be a separa- tion, a divorce even, so be that, too. He had only himself to blame. “Hello,” he said, wanly; and awaited the explosion. “Oh, Ephie!”” Mrs. Golightly was calling him by an old pet name—a beloved homely name he had not heard her speak for years— and over the singing wire her voice came to him flutingly, yes, actually with affectionate flutings and thrills in it. ‘*Oh, Ephie, you'll never guess what has happened! Oh, Ephie, Mrs. Pewter-Walsberg just called up! You know what she stands for in society? You how how I’ve worked and schemed to get in with her crowd and how I’ve subscribed for her pet charities and offered to serve on her tire- some committees and all? Well, she just called up. She’s going to let her daughter, Millicent, be on the receiving line for Harriet’s début. She’s going to see that Evelyn gets into the Junior League right away. Her word is just law there. And she’s invited you and me to dine with them next Thursday—one of those small intimate dinners that she’s so famous for. Isn’t it wonderful? And it’s all due to you, dear, and I’m so grateful and the girls are both so grateful (Concluded on page 106)

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HARPER’S BAZAR Models on this page from HELLSTERN A sandal in beige-gold and pink brocade, filled in with pink and gold straps at the side, and with a buckle of rubies and _ strass. Pale pink satin is used for this evening slipper orna mented with straps and with a bracelet-like orna ment of coral and strass. An example of the modi fied oxford; in patent leather and antelope, with an elastic insert and but tons of black and silver (Top) An afternoon pump of crépe de Chine has an ornament of mother-of- pearl dyed to match. This is new and very smart. White and gold broché and gold kid are used for this extremely simple evening slipper of the strapless type we call an “‘ opera pump.” This one-strap pattern is new and very smart. Shown here in gray kid and gray lizard—the warm gray without a hint of blue. The new divided strap on this black satin slipper is almost entirely covered with strass, and has a buckle of black enamel and Strass. NEW SHOES FROM PARIS Selections from the Smartest Shoes of Hellstern, Perugia, Julienne and Ducerf-Scavint, and the Typical Modes Worn at Cannes HORT skirts are responsible for the care S with which the smart woman dresses her feet, and the pleasant result is not the least of their recommendations. The number of shoes Owned by the éégante is truly legion. You remember that special shoe-trunk, holding thirty pairs, that was drawn in the last May number. It may have seemed to you rather a white elephant; but ask the shoemakers. They have plenty of clients who order half a dozen pairs at a time, that time coming every three or four months! Dressmaking and shoemaking have a good deal in common. In both of them, the makers propose and the smart clients dispose, as the French proverb has it. Not every novelty introduced for the spring season will receive smart approval; far from it. The fastidious client has become a conservative in footgear, as a protest against the too luxuriant imagina- tion of some of its creators. Fussy feet are bad form, and bad form is noisome. In this section devoted to smart foot-dressing, I have tried to find the desired medium; to choose from the newest suggestions of the leading makers those models which the spring season seems most likely to crown with success; and to illustrate, at the same time, a few of the leading types which are actually worn in such places as Biarritz and Cannes. Let us take the last first. On page eighty- three are sketched some of the most typical models worn at Cannes. Notice first the “es- padrille,”’ or French sports shoe for the real player. This is a peasant shoe adapted to smart wear, and you find it in its primitive form at every village cobbler’s in France. As sketched, it has a sole of crépe rubber to replace the original one of braided rope, and an upper of white linen canvas. It is tied on with tapes laced through eyelets in the sides, and is worn for tennis over a white angora wool sock rolled Tan calf, with a double strap tied on the instep Brown kid is trimmed with perforations, and given a —a compromise between a pump and an oxford. new strap, divided into two small straps over the instep. Qo ree

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—EEE wo 1926 for MA Y RAAB Lizard is smarter than ever in Paris now; fine grain beige lizard with matching kid scallops in front bordered with silver. TORR aL ae PEs Sie at SY ONT > Models on this page from PERUGIA Photographs by Baron de Meyer down about the ankle, with a stocking under that. It makes a charmingly natural-looking foot, and is as light as possible. At Cannes the smartest daytime footgear I saw was in a combination of leathers, in which boa-skin and lizard played the important réles. Sometimes these exotic skins were colored in shades of beige and light brown; they might even in rare instances be in dark red, dark blue, or dark green. I shall have more to say about the colored shoe further on. Frequently they were left in their natural tones, more or less grayish. This will encourage the return of gray footgear, but the smartest women still prefer a neutral beige stocking, even when their lizard shoes are in the natural gray. Some of the makers are using a very gray beige, and Hell- stern, for example, thinks that the warm brownish grays have a good chance of success, as a change. The bluish grays he considers too cold. He has introduced two new shades of stockings to go with these new grays, one called Des Grieux and the other Manon, both of which woven together in the fab- : ric Perugia calls ‘‘cre- mone.’ With sable leather. are brownish gray, one being many tones lighter than the other. For the combinations of lizard or boa, kid matching the dominating shade is used, with box-calf sometimes for the heavier types. A real touch of elegance is the bag or envelope which matches the hose. I am going to send you a page or two of them later on. You wil find an example on page eighty-three. These shoes are worn at resorts with any kind of daytime clothes. For a stricter sports type, the best footgear is still the combination of Black satin with a silver heel and a band of silver trimmed with strass in a graceful line over the toe. Beige and sable leather, Gray satin and leather are piped with vivid cerise in an evening slip- per, typical of the season. silver buckskin and calf. Last year this shoe was quite exclusive; this year quantities of women have it, and it may be bought ready-made almost anywhere. White buck and tan calf is still the most usual combination, but I saw some smart things in pale buff buck and tan calf instead, which struck me as being more becoming because less of a contrast—cutting up the foot less. The shapes of these shoes group themselves into four types; the pump, the sandal, the one or two strap model, and the oxford. While none of them is eccentric, the variety is appar- ently unlimited. Sandals showed a tendency to be cut higher on the foot; the addition of an extra piece at the side, as in the model in lizard sketched on page eighty-three, shows the sort of thing I mean. Sandals of interlaced strips so popular for two years are a little too ordinary now. Most of these Cannes shoes were in tones of beige, very light brown, or in the natural gray of the skins used for them. Some darker brown

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HARPER’S BAZAR Sports stockings from Hell- Stern are in two shades of beige, checked all over. These small, vague checks are the smartest this season. Gray-beige is used for the ground of these Erés stock- ings, and the stripes are of pale gray, an effective combination for sports wear. Shoes on this page from JULIENNTI Paris is wearing oxfords of certain modified types. This one, of gray-beige kid, is cut rather high at the top, a line most flattering to the foot and smart this season. was also worn with darker costumes. Some women wore white shoes; not so many as last year; and invariably with light beige stockings. I saw a few white shoes with touches of color, to match the rest of the accessories; occasionally an extremely smart woman dared a pair of real colored shoes, when the color completed the scheme of her costume. But I think to wear red, dark blue, or green shoes at present, one must really be Somebody. I think it is a thing which ordinary mortals had better leave alone. If the fashion becomes more general among impor- tant women, I shall probably change my mind. Now to talk a little of the propositions of the leading shoemakers. Take Hellstern first, because his shoes begin the article. At the very top of page seventy-eight you see a plain pump with a square nacré ornament in front. The ming For afternoon costumes, a one-strap pump in patent leather, with trim- of gold leather. novelty about this is its material; it is made of heavy crépe de Chine. The pair I saw was in bottle-green, with a buckle in dyed mother-of pearl, and very attractive it was. The per fectly dull surface of the crépe seems to legiti- mize the color, and for a real hot-weather fashion I can imagine a crépe de Chine pump in the strong color of the accessories of one’s costume looking very well. A charming evening slipper is in two shades of satin, beige, and white, piped with bands of gold kid. noon costumes are rose- colored antelope sanda/s, with lizard trimming. Two other new daytime shoes in this group are both intended for town. One is in Hell- stern’s gray-beige, with a quite elaborate ornamentation of lizard strips at the sides. He is making some models, not finished in time for this article, in which this lizard ornamentation is asymmetric, that is to say, one-sided, with the more important trimming on the outside of the shoe. Such a fantasy as this is accep- table enough if one likes it; but most of the frankly one-sided shoes that I have seen have struck me as being too “fancy.” Here and there, one finds an arrangement of straps more complicated on the outside than on the inside; this seems reasonable enough; but a shoe which is all cut away on one side, or which has a twisty strap running at an acute angle across it, seems to me to be one of the To be worn with after-

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PP NEI NE NADER De A new stocking from Glénat is in chiné beige, with a new rather wide and quite elaborate clock. Chiné beige has none of the rose cast. oar . SO a Nt a4 xR Oe Stockings from Hellstern in a warm sunburned color silk, open checks, called *‘ losange Hoggar,” up the entire front of the leg. \ with curious An evening slipper of red satin with interestingly curved Shoes on this page from DUCERF-SCAVINI straps of gold lined with satin and buttons of gold set with things that a smart woman would instinctively avoid. For wear with a tailleur in town is a modifica- tion of the oxford from Hellstern, which slips on by means of an elastic insert, and is orna- mented with three silver and black enamel buttons, that don’t button, down the front. This shoe is in black patent leather, which, with black antelope, is still very smart for town wear, where clothes are apt to be dark. In the country, on the contrary, the black shoe is almost unknown, and as the weather gets warmer beige and brown and gray shoes will naturally come into town. Variations of the oxford are interesting the creators a good deal. They cut them low, and cut them high, and cut them away in places; and one of the most successful things that has been done to Smart for country and re- sort wear; ahigh-cut shoe, kid and white lizard. most effective, of white rubies. them is shown in Baron de Meyer’s photograph of a Julienne shoe on the opposite page. The abrupt line at the top of an oxford is not becoming; it cuts the foot in an unfortunate place, especially when the shoe is darker than the stocking. To obviate this Julienne has cut the top down at the sides as you see, giving a much prettier line. To return to the Hellstern shoes—the Russian Matching shoe and accessory. The oxford is in brown calf and boa- skin; the umbrella has a boa handle. Jeweled buttons are new and very smart. leather walking or sports pump illustrates a new tendency which is seen everywhere among the best makers; that is, the idea of tying the shoe across the instep with some sort of a laced strap. It is perhaps the success of the Prince of Wales brogue that has encouraged this idea. Every one is doing it, and I have already seen a few pairs worn. The line is graceful, and the lacing allows one to make the strap tight or loose at will. For evening Hellstern would like to bring back the rich colored brocades of former epochs. He wistfully makes models in them, but my vendeuse tells me that her clients order these models in faint brocades, or in plain satin. A very elaborate sandal example is sketched, in a broché of dead-leaf brown and pink with gold, trimmed at the side with bands of rose For evening is a modified sandal, of gold lamé em- broidered with red, blue, and black. Gold straps.

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HELLSTERN HARPER’S BAZAR Photograph by Baron de Meyer Baron de Meyer has photographed a Hell- stern mule of iridescent kid, lined with beige and made with a heel of mother-of-pearl. pink satin and gilt leather. This has buckles of strass and rubies to carry out the color scheme. Another new model is in faint pink satin with stitched-on bias bands of matching satin, and a strap across the instep which is almost covered by an ornament like a bracelet in strass and pink stones, while the button is seven-faceted and set with strass and rubies, though it is so small. I have had the black satin model sketched because Hellstern is using this sort of instep strap on many different kinds of shoes. The end divides, and the strap is almost covered with brilliants. At Cannes, I saw evening slippers of this type in which the Interwoven beige and silver ribbon, lined and trimmed with summer ermine, is used for this. — ‘ z Se (Left, above) Ducerf-Scavini makes a most decorative and medieval-looking mule of orange leather and trims it with gold. strap was decorated with a regular bracelet of strass or colored stones. worked as carefully as a bracelet for the arm would be. Evening slippers in general allow far more license for fantasy than daytime shoes. Both sandal and slipper shapes are worn. I seemed to detect a preference in favor of the former, on account, perhaps, of the growing vogue of the Charleston, which necessitates some sup- port for the foot, and a shoe which will not come off at the heel. With white gowns, women wear silver footgear, either in patterned lamés or in silvered leather; the former being the more elegant in my opinion. Their ornaments of strass are exquisitely made, and the shoes are real examples of luxury. Sometimes I see a faint champagne satin sandal with white frocks, but the plain rose- beige satin slipper which was the smartest of all so short a time ago looks too informal now. Very few perfectly plain satin shoes are worn; ornaments are almost invariable. Champagne satin looks extremely pretty with the thin black lace and chiffon gowns which every smart woman has in her evening wardrobe. Evening slippers may not match dresses, (Right) A mule for a bride is of white kid, with a green kid heel, ornamented with a beautiful camellia of white and green kid. but they always suggest them, or the accessories worn with them. They are selected to go with each gown and complete the carefully studied effect of the whole. When a pronounced color is chosen for the dress, the slipper or sandal may match it, but the stocking remains the color of the skin. Weare not in the least tired of matching our stockings to our bare arms, and the result is most harmonious with modern abbreviated evening dresses. With certain black gowns black slippers decorated with silver or gold or strass are very good; the heels often match the ornamentation. I noticed also a tendency to have shoes in two shades to match the new two colored evening dresses. Heels Black satin ballet slip- pers, lined and laced with green, are worn with black pajamas. ee ae

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re eee for MAY 1926 aah ihe we a, ¢ ay , bes iss pe a cin we fama 83 Photograph by Baron de Meyer HELLSTERN A Hellstern variation of the Wales” oxford, and a typical French version of the formal riding-boot of patent leather. “Prince of are either Louis XV. or “spike.”” The latter I find very smart for evening; their height is often considerable and must be very tiring. Perugia, whose models are shown on page seventy-nine, is called the Poiret of shoes, because of his unfailing invention. The entire shoe industry owes much to this quiet, thought- ful man, who has concentrated his intelligence and creative faculty on shoemaking. Traced back to their source, an astonishing number of the ideas now in vogue must be credited to him. This year he is making a great deal of the weaving of very narrow strips of kid into a shoe material which he calls Crémone. This makes a light cool shoe, particularly good for At Cannes the French espadrille of rubber — sole canvas with a was worn for tennis. White buckskin and calf is still a favorite combination for sports shoes worn by smart French women. The heel is solid leather. hot weather, as it is unlined and allows the air to enter between the chinks. An example in beige and sable kid is sketched on page seventy- nine. The model photographed is in fine- grain lizard in champagne color, combined with matching kid, and trimmed with a triple turn- over of scalloped kid, outlined with the merest hint of silver. This turn-over recalls the sabot shape which has not left the mode altogether, and which is best for those whose instep is not too high. It is a fatiguing shape for a very much arched foot. For evening Perugia uses another woven material, made of a strand of silvered or gilt leather or metal thread and a strand of colored silk, combined with satin of the color of the silk strand. He also uses brochés, either all metal or silk and metal, sometimes trimmed with gilt or silver kid; and much satin, trimmed with stones or gilded leather. The black satin pair sketched is worn by Madame Lanvin, and is trimmed with a flatteringly placed band of silver leather with strass embroidery and a silver heel. The other evening pair sketched gives a suggestion for silver evening dresses; they are made of gray satin trimmed with silver (Right) For less sporting clothes is a typical sandal made of lizard in the smart warm beige-gray that Paris is now wearing. leather which is piped with the faintest linc of cerise satin. In the original model this leather is speckled with color, like spatterwork. All- jewel heels are seen in Perugia’s collection as in others; but they are a little too stagey to be really smart. Ducerf-Scavini is a famous inventor of novelties; his daring is proverbial. Illustrated is his new shallow-cut (Concluded on page 138) Matching shoes are bags and extremely smart. These are in beige kid and boa-skin.

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HARPER’S BAZAR *** Meriel Shaylor!’ exclaimed Gloria. ‘You always saving my life in school. Get busy again!’ ” were OH, MISS MIFFLIN! A Desperate Cry from a E HAD the sad eyes of a sailor—hound HI eyes, moist and tender. Whether that look is caused by loneliness, by the anguish of long farewells (from short loves), or merely by staring into the wind so much, these sailors have it. And make good use of it, too!—especially the young officers of the navy, who add the pathos of glory to the poetry of all the woman- less oceans. This was what overwhelmed Meriel Shaylor, when she met her first naval officer, almost her first infatuation of any sort. For Meriel was always withholding her heart for some great lover to come and storm it. So, of course, nobody came. For the great philosopher who wrote the epic of Mary and her Little Lamb established a great truth in his immortal quatrain: “*Why does the lamb love Mary so?’ The children then did cry. ‘Because Mary loves the lamb, you know,’ The teacher did reply.” OW Gloria Mifflin understood this well and went about loving the lambs first. So she always had a flock at her heels. She loved men before she met them. She loved the next man coming along before he rounded the corner. She did not love long, but she loved early and often. That was why the studious Fifth Avenue Bus By RUPERT HUGHES I Illustrated by Oscar Howard Meriel had to write Gloria’s essays and do her math for her when they were in Miss Finch’s together. After that they did not meet till one afternoon when Meriel, after calling on a great-aunt at the Plaza, was hailed in the lobby with a startling: ‘“‘Meriel Shaylor, for God’s sake! You were always saving my life in school. Get busy again!”’ “Why, Gloria, what on earth?” ‘**There’s a gang of sailors ashore, and you’ve got to help entertain ’em.” “*A gang of sailors! Me? Really, Gloria!”’ “Oh, they’re actually officers, Annapolis graduates with garters of service ribbons on their chests—war heroes.” “ae “T haven’t met any of ’em. Cuyler’s party. She made me promise to bring another girl. But every white woman I know is booked up, banged up, or bound out. So you're elected.”’ “Really, Gloria! “Bosh, dearie. I'll call for you.” “But really!” “T’ll call for you at seven forty-five. G’by!” Consuelo was one of those who do not believe in introductions and Meriel was marooned in a nameless throng. By dint of much listening she learned that the woful-eyed young beauty opposite her was Lieutenant-commander Dewey It’s Consuelo I must say!” I haven’t time to be tactful. Weir. He was so woful-eyed that Meriel felt tears a-glint on her own lashes from merely studying the abysmal glooms of his lustrous orbs. E GLANCED at Meriel now and then. Sorrow! Sorrow! He was not humorous, or silly, or hilarious like the rest. And that endeared him to the earnest Meriel. Even when he danced with each of the other girls in turn, his manner was funereal. He reached Meriel at last, but she said she could not dance. Gloria had _ kindly explained Meriel’s abstinence as due to “‘a slight spavin and galled hock.” The Lieutenant-commander came round and sat out the dance with Meriel. It was a long dance and they had a noble parley on the futilities of life and the tragic farce of dancing as an escape from thought. He returned to his place when the dancers came in from toil, limping and mopping and lassitudinous. He sat out the next dance with Gloria, who was nursing a crushed instep, and Meriel was shot through with jealousy to note that he gazed down just as mournfully into Gloria’s uplifted eyes. Later when Gloria could dance again there was something elegiac about their manner. Dancing was the only thing Gloria took seriously. The dying gazelle was a laughing fox compared to her in the fell clutch of her partner.

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finda “Tt was a long dance and they had a noble parley on the futilities of life and the tragic farce of dancing as an escape from thought.” Once more Dewey Weir sat out a dance with Meriel and love was born in her heart, first love, passionate and hungry. When the party broke up, she could not believe that Dewey Weir’s mournful eyes were not a little forlorner than usual. She dared not say she hoped to see him again, and perhaps he was afraid to say the same to her. ET when she called on Gloria a week later, she found Gloria groaning over a letter from the Lieutenant-commander. “The poor nut wants to resign, desert the ship, swim ashore, take a job on land, anything to be with me.” Meriel told herself that she must not swoon, and gasped: ‘“Wh-what are you going to answer?”’ “Nothing. It’s a regular form letter he sends back to one girl in every port, I’m sure,” “T can’t believe it. man.” “What do you know about men, darling? You can have him. You used to write my essays for me. Why don’t you answer this He’s not that kind of a sad-eyed sea-cook? He doesn’t know my writing. Sign my name and go as far as you like.” “All right!’’ cried Mericl, stupefied at her own audacity. She spent a wonderiul night pouring out her soul with such sincerity that it hurt like a forgery to sign Gloria’s name. A fortnight later Gloria brought her Weir’s answer. A vicarious existence went on like an LEELA EE OAR EE a = ~— 4 astral honeymoon, the letters increasing in length and in fervor, and, alas, in intervals. Strange stamps from curious ports decorated his envelopes. At last, just as he was turning home, Gloria Mifflin, the go-between, balked; insisted on an immediate conclusion of the romance! “1M going to marry Hilary Tucker. He’s as jealous asa black leopard, and if I ever get a letter from that weird Weir, he’ll raise Cain.”’ The disconsolate Meriel could think of nothing to write Weir, but a very literary announcement that she was going into a convent where she would pray for his happiness, but where no answer of his must ever be sent. She immured her heart, indeed, in a con- ventual seclusion and (Concluded on page 158)

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BAZAR ¢ TO DARIZ HARPER LAZARE LA GARE /T | es \ : AN AVON ia. " ’ \ SU EAI Ne THE ENTRANCE a0, ri) oh Oe da IN NN” i sini

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(ptt neeneseceeens Tucked in the bag, to be used in the “sleeping,” as the French call it, are sheets and pillow-cases of wash silk. CLOTHES There WORN YVONNE DAVIDSON AT CANNES Is, at the Moment, a New Philosophy of Bright Color and Contrast, «which Will Influence the Mode for Six Months to Come By Hotel Carlton, Cannes. BOUT the first of May, the modern AN apartment dweller sends for the vacuum cleaners, and packs her trunks for Europe; she begins to dream of the long gray rollers of the Atlantic, rolling steadily toward the rue de la Paix and the Champs Elysées, where you get twenty-seven-odd francs for one American dollar, and cocktails cost about twelve cents apiece. She has nothing to wear anyhow; so what more natural than to follow the call of the road to Paris and new frocks, especially as Paris will be extremely glad to see her. One might say that a woman is known by the baggage she keeps, for the real élégante carries her fastidious taste into the last detail of her possessions. From Vuitton, one of the smartest makers in the world, come the trunks and bags and dressing-cases drawn by Monsieur de Monvel on these first pages. On an upper floor of his establishment, Vuitton has a collection of the baggage of all ages; and it is amusing to see how typical are the trunks and cases of the clothes of their epoch. What more appropriate container for the tie-backs and bustles of the seventies and ’eighties could be imagined than the Saratoga, rocking ponderously on its im- pressive dome? Modern luggage is like modern architecture—severely practical, rectangular, and chary of ornamentation. The best-looking MARIORIE HowaARD examples that I see are in sole-leather, un tanned horse-hide, or such solidly expensive materials. It is chic to have them all match, except the dressing-bag, which, under its protecting cover, is probably made of leather such as a less extravagant age would have used for binding a treasured first edition. Earlier in before the Atlantic liners were filled to the gunwales, I had an attack of spring fever myself, and came down to Cannes to cure it. Now the Riviera, you know, is like a fading beauty, in that it needs to be seen in a favorable light. But it looked its best this year, with the finest spring weather that has been known in a decade; floods of sunshine all day long, clear amethystine twilights, and, that nothing might be lacking, a moon like a huge gold piece rising out of the snowy Maritime Alps. While Paris, cold and rainy, was shivering in somber winter garments, I observed and formulated a whole new philosophy of dress, particularly in relation to color, which will influence the mode for the next six months at least, and broadcast its beams much farther than a good deed in any world, however naughty. Let me see if I can get it down on paper for you. Last vear at Cannes, later at Biarritz, then at Deauville and Biarritz again, women looked like Lloyd George’s refreshing fruit, in their apricot, the season, aE Yvonne Davidson dresses the traveler in beige kasha with a reversible leather jacket. The sheets are hers, too. A new hat trunk from Vuitton takes up very little space, because the taped cubes are set compactly one above the other. Luggage on this page from VUITTON

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Luggage on this page from VUITTON peach, almond, lemon, and palely rose clothes. This year, the fruit is no longer refreshing; it is stale; and there is a new note of strength, of contrast, vivid and daring, which is like a trumpet call to one’s joy in color. This color must be used with taste and with intelligence; otherwise the result is disaster. That is why both white and natural kasha keep their place in the sun—they make such good backgrounds for it. Last year’s conception of the purest elegance—everything matching—is superseded this year by clever combinations, in which violent contrasts are the characteristic note, as dissonances are characteristic of modern music. To match everything slavishly is too easy—it becomes unintelligent to do it any longer. It looks too perfect, too like an old fashioned fashion-plate; our country clothes, at least, should have a less monotonous intention, an unpremeditated air, which is really carefully careless and the result of study. We were inspired by fruits last summer; this year we have taken flowers for our point of color departure; but not faint, pale exotics; the HARPER’S BAZAR FOURRURES MAX IVayside tea from a Vuitton tea-case of sole- leather; the lady wears a.beige tweed coat frimmed with giraffe from Fourrures Max. robust and wholesome blooms of the perennial border in the cottage garden. High in favor are the pure reds—not the purplish wine colors, but the red of the field poppy as well as the dusky tone of the clove carnation; cornflower blues which blend so well with dark marine and midnight blue, and all the blues that we find in Chinese porcelain; the clear greens of vigorous leaves and plant stems, and of fresh spring grasses. These are the shades in favor, not necessarily for entire costumes, which might be too nerve-shattering, but used with distinction, restraint, and discrimination. I must not forget the decided rose pinks, which have certainly not left the mode; they too have the strength and sweetness of roses from a country garden. But the flag colors, after all, are the smartest for resort wardrobes; so you may gratify your patriotism freely. Both white and the pale neutral fawn of natural wool make a wonderful foil for these courageous shades; so they remain. But the “eatable” browns, gingerbread and _ spices, have retired for the summer. There are dead- An automobile trunk from Vuitton contains suit-cases for Monsieur and for Madame, in a varnished leather case.

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oe a — for MAY Vet 28 Re Stee RE pons | eal a} if ; d . r % .4 SS af : 3 t a y 7% 2 ¥ % Re f 7s i a ah ‘ we * ¥ "e f ie , . t *f fa, : ¥ : a, mi bie 4 ¥ Ay ie a: View : MRS 7 : beryl } Going to take her train the traveler wears an ensemble in plain green and plaid green kasha, with a_ traveling-rug leaf browns and grayish browns of quite a dark tone, especially for tweedy things that give real service. Grays are just where they were; neither in the mode nor out of it; they look dis- tinguished, tranquil, and ladylike on those to whom they are becoming. The faint ashes of roses and pallid lilacs fade into insipidity among these rugged color schemes. I do not mean that nobody wears them; one sees them on well-dressed women still; but frank colors are newer; so new, in fact, that only the smartest women have so far adopt- ed them. I think the best thing I can do to bring this new philosophy of color before your mind’s eye is to describe what I thought successful examples of it. Madame Porel wears Patou’s costume of white with the two best blues, marine and cornflower. There is a sketch of it on page 116. She adds a plain, dark blue felt hat, rather high-crowned, from Reboux, and lo match. instead of the white coat which Patou made to go with this frock, she wears a white coat- sweater. I have seen this same costume worn with a dark-blue sweater. Coat-sweaters are extremely smart in plain colors, carnation red, navy blue, myrtle or emerald green, beige or white. No pattern whatever; and buy them at a man’s furnishing shop if you want them to hang properly, and don’t put your hands in the pockets. They heave a better chance of survival than the double- breasted jackets of bright strong colors, like the English naval officer’s, which I see worn with plaited white skirts of crépe or flannel. I have an idea that these may grow suddenly too popular. They are very easy to make, while the good coat-sweater is expensive and difficult to find. At night, Madame Porel, who is the daughter- in-law of the famous Rejane, you remember, works out some taking color combinations. She wears a plain white crépe satin frock, dull side out, from Patou, tied in a bow on the left shoulder. It was drawn in the February number of Hiarper’s Bazar. On the right shoulder are two deep, but bright, red carnations, while under her arm is a big matching envelope- VUITTON Of heavy pigskin, this golf bag has a long turn- over top, to be adjusted to clubs of different lengths, and a padlocked pocket on the outside. purse of red velvet, and in her hand a large silk handkerchief of the same red, like cherries. But her shoes are plain sandals of black or white satin and her stockings the color of her bare arms. On

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WORTH another night, I saw her in a black taffeta frock, with deep rose carnations, purse, and handker- chief. Again her slippers were plain black; one must not pile Pelion on Ossa in dealing with decided color. UT of the baccarat rooms one afternoon, about seven, the hour which with most people is the moment of departure, came a very smart woman, wearing a simple white crépe frock, plaited skirt and jumper, a dark red coat-sweater with a bright red carnation pinned on it, plain sports hat in beige felt with a dark and a bright red band round it, and oxfords of white buckskin and tan calf. A beige handker- chief tumbled out of one pocket, and her stockings and pull-on gloves were beige. I highly approved of her. Another day, I saw Mrs. Arbuthnot Leslie at the same hour wearing a crépe frock in bright cornflower blue, a high-crowned gray felt hat, encircled with bands of grosgrain ribbon in two blues; blue corntflowers pinned to her shoulder; beige lizard pumps and beige stockings, and a plain beige kasha coat, very straight and simple. Madame de Anchorena, whose costume always repays study, wears frequently one of these plain straight coats of beige kasha, and with it fresh, flower-colored crépe frocks, putting the two together by her clever choice of natural blossoms pinned to the coat lapel. Once her frock was the green of daffodil leaves, and she wore daffodils; once it was red with red carnations; once Chanel’s field-flower print, with a bunch of the same field flowers on the shoulder. Perhaps these instances are enough to prove to you how much more intelligence there is in a costume like that, than in the banal matching Madame Jean Charles Worth wore at Cannes a suil of bright blue with brass buttons and striped blue _ revers. The Reboux felt béret matches the suit to complete the ensemble. of everything, which is a mere question of money. Clothes have really changed so little fun- damentally, you see, that the whole attention of the élégantes has been focused on refining them. But you will notice that no matter what the fresh strong color chosen, shoes, stockings, gloves, and even hats remain neutral beige as often as not. This is an effect that is too good to give up. —=08s— NOVELTY is the use of bands of colored grosgrain ribbon on the beige and white hats of this season. Often two contrasting colors, such as red and green, are used; often two shades of the same color. Particularly with Patou’s sweater blouses of white, striped horizontally with narrow lines of two colors or two shades, HARPER’S BAZAR one a i

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DRECOLL Madame Besangon wore at Cannes this Drecoll frock of gray and white crépe de Chine, with a gray felt hat with a blue ribbon, and a scarf in gray, white, and blue. these hat-bands look well; and they are a real resource to those whose packing room is limited, or whose purse is depleted, in that many of them serve the same hat. With colored hat-bands and coat-sweaters and the scarfs and big neck handkerchiefs which seem to have returned to favor, you may make a dozen variations on one of them, with profit to the budget. Flowers, too, are a great help in this con- trasting of bright and neutral tones that makes the new ensemble. In Paris we had given them up, except in the evening; here they are rampant on almost every shoulder. A com- bination that I thought most intelligent con- sisted of a coat of chipmunk, worn over a Chéruit frock in brown and beige crépe; the hat was Reboux’s beige grosgrain, one sketched by Soulié on page 106, with stripes of the ribbon up one side repeating the stripes in the fur; and a bunch of fresh yellow mimosa was pinned to the collar exactly matching a knot of yellow crépe tied at the point of the V on the blouse. NOTHER carefully studied casual-looking effect, much cleverer than a matching ensemble, had a frock of pink crépe, a pink that was like crushed strawberries and cream, and a silk coat-sweater over it, striped in rose- mauve and deep cream, with a pink border like the frock. The hat was a wide-brimmed white Panama, of extreme fineness, with a black band and bow as simple as a man’s; and a This shows the new harmonizing, rather than matching, ensemble. string of black beads round the neck repeated the somber note. The shoes and stockings were beige, and the bag was a big antelope one of beige, tucked under the arm. Below one shoulder was pinned a bunch of the new violets, single and colored like a cyclamen, suggesting both the pink and the mauve. She, also, slipped on a plain beige coat when she went out. EWELS are used just as carefully as flowers; but this implies a very deep purse. That, of course, is where the good imitations come in. I think I will postpone telling you about the jewels till later. They are so fabu- ‘ous that I must have space to do justice to them, and drawings to make you see them. But with all this gorgeousness of color, magnifi- cence of jewelry, and richness of accessories, the plain cropped head keeps its own. No, I don’t think women are letting their hair grow. I see extremely little evidence of it—just enough exceptions to prove the rule. There is very little change in hair-dressing, too. Women suit the crop to the countenance more cleverly than they did at first. Not every one tries to paste her hair back like a man’s, for example; some heads prefer a modified tousle. I’m collecting interesting examples to illustrate for you; but it takes time, because novelty in coiffures is as rare as pearls in Cotuits. I have told you all I know about shoes and stockings in another article. The mode is becoming extremely dangerous to certain forms of animal life. Ermines and chinchillas have been its principal victims; now the swift lizard and the powerful boa-constrictor are also threatened with extinction. The mode is almost as heavily lizardized in the daytime as it is erminized in the evening; and one night I counted forty ermine capes on their way from the Carlton to the Casino. The two-color effects that we note in clothes and millinery are spreading to bags and shoes. Heaven forfend that they include gloves; we have fought the “‘fancy’”’ glove successfully for years and we do not welcome another attack. Sea APES were one of the headlines in the February collections. Perhaps later in the summer, when the weather is warmer, and more smart clients have bought their new clothes, we may see capes outnumber coats. So far, though the former are represented on the Riviera, the coats have it decidedly. The cape, they say, is becoming but not practical. The short capes on coats and suits, of course, have not this objection and were very good as long ago as last spring. The three-quarter cape can look extremely well, giving that air which the French call avoir du chien, and which we translate by “doggy,’’ so much more to be desired than mere prettiness these days. Madame Besancon, the wife of the director of Drecoll’s is wearing one of them in the snapshot of her on page ninety-nine.

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9) HARPER’S BAZAR Chantal turns a flowered chiffon evening frock into an afternoon frock with two chiffon boleros, \ a white one underneath a red one. Her clothes are lovely and beautifully worn, and she is one of the smartest of the Cannes visitors. On another page you will Bi aA find a portrait by Luza of Mme. Jean Charles Worth wearing Bag ARS tailored clothes with the immense distinction that her tall blonde beauty knows how to give them. Her ensemble was an example of the careful study of detail on the day we made this sketch. She wore a suit of bright blue; her hat was a matching felt béret from Reboux. Her shoes were brown sandals, very simple, trimmed only with perforations, and her brown bag and brown dog-skin gloves from Alexandrine ~— exactly matched them. They had “zippers’’ up the sides to enable her to put their wide cuffs over the ends of her sleeves. Well may Arnold Bennett say that the price of smartness is eternal vigilance, when details receive so thoughtful an atten- tion as this. A word about the hats. The first thing that strikes one is that they have definitely taken themselves brims of no mean proportions. The Reboux success “Paris,” sketched on page ninety-six, has a brim of a good two inches, that turns down in the back instead of up. Another Reboux model, MAR} Ae / PATOL sketched by Luza on the same page and worn by Mrs. NOWITZKY bee % L Coleridge Ertz, is an immense success at Cannes, and its j aie. F important brim turns down all round. These two shapes, This is Patou’s “ Dalmatique,” featur- with the felt béret from Reboux, and the felt bérets and combi- Mary Nowitsky puts on a coat of gold ing an extra sleeveless coat of chiffon nations of hemp and straw from Agnés, are the present leaders lamé tissue, with colored binding and that may be worn over a chiffon gown on the Riviera. The brims are often wired; this is a new note, buttons, over a light evening frock.

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for MAY 1926 Lanvin uses a sleeveless coat of plain turquoise Georgette crépe over a tur- quoise blue Georgette crépe afternoon frock embroidered in rose and cream. for women are rather tired of the waviness of un- wired brims which, badly worn, look like patty- pans. In their salons the milliners are preparing still newer things. Reboux is pushing the crowns up again, in that “square” line which she did two summers ago. This hat she makes in the sangha crocheted straw, with almost no trimming at all. She plans it to go with her latest invention, a sort of Pierrot collar of ostrich feathers in two colors, which she insists will be worn by the smartest women in her clientele. Baron de Meyer has photographed this on page sixty-nine, and I hear that many of the most important women in Paris have already ordered it. With it, Reboux thinks that hats should be high and plain, and coats dark, narrow, and straight, and as plain as possible. The revival of ostrich feathers is a most interest- ing question just now. Callot has several lovely gown, trimmed with them; and Madame Leroy, who directs the destinies of the Fourrures Max, has made a most successful evening coat in squirrel dyed a light creamy brown, and trimmed with flues of ostrich dyed the same color. The effect is really beautiful. A sort of cloth is woven or crocheted of ostrich flues, which Agnés, the modiste, is using for the crowns of some of her bérets in most brilliant tones of red and blue. She has done another odd little hat, sketched on page 117, in which black Chantilly lace is used over blue felt. This 93 LANVIN CHANEL Chanel fastens a large colored chiffon handkerchief at the right shoulder.

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CALLOT sounds awful, but looks charming with a blue crépe frock trimmed with the same lace. In Luza’s portrait sketch of her in a Louiseboulanger gown on the opposite page, she is wearing one of her own hats in black felt, with a band of creamy guipure or point de Venise placed flat over the felt as the only trimming. Ostrich feathers and lace coming back under such intriguing new guises may perhaps herald a return to a more formal type of dress, at least for important occasions in town. But notice that with Reboux’s ostrich collars she insists on clothes being plain to the point almost of poverty, in order to avoid the deadly sin of looking overdressed. HE feather campaign is deliberately undertaken, I believe, to save the ostrich farms from total ruin. The ostrich is the only bird that does not have to be killed for its plumage. This ought to make some appeal to us, but the mode seldom takes humanitarian considerations into account. Dame Fashion cares no more for the sorrows of ostrich farmers than for the eighteen thousand Chinese net-makers that bobbed hair is said to have put out of business. She cannot stop to con- sider everybody’s needs before she makes a change; all progress would end if she did, and the evils of a stationary style would be far more widespread than the troubles of any individual group of manufacturers. HARPER’S BAZAR Over a lovely gown of white taffeta with gray edges, Callot throws a fringed and brocaded gray and sil- ver shawl from Coudurier. In line with the new idea of contrast is this combining of such a “dressy”? thing as a collar of ostrich feathers with rigidly simple clothes. It is like the plain frocks which are backgrounds for magnificent stones of fabulous value. Women who possess masses of jewelry are beginning to turn against the glittering evening gown, because their diamonds are lost on it. The evening mode at Cannes shows less novelty than the daytime one. I found no new philosophy here. The most noteworthy thing about it was the adoption by so many women of the Chanel type of chiffon frock which has one end that is frankly Jong. A second note I made was the persistence of both thin black and white. One new feature is very interest- ing, and it is illustrated on the two pages by Luza which show chiffon coats, capes, and handkerchiefs worn with evening clothes. In the Casinos of the various resorts, many women prefer to wear an evening wrap continually; but as the rooms are invariably overheated, the invention of such a light addi- tion as a Patou “‘ Dalmatique”’ is one that has met with instant success. Madame Yteb has another solution of the problem. With her evening gowns she puts a straight unlined coat of the same material, particularly when the material is rich and hand- some. This coat is untrimmed with fur and is ideal for wear in the Casino, while the heavier outdoor wrap goes easily over it. Evening wraps may be capes or they may be coats,

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for A creamy point de skirt; an Agnés béret with point de Venise crown. black boulanger frock with a MAY 1926 Louise- crépe Venise but if they are not of ermine, they are of the lovely supple brocades or of chiffon velvets, sumptuously trimmed with fur. A charming one was of white chiffon velvet with masses of white fox. Gold and silver lamé are frequently seen, often richly trimmed with fur. Many women seem to have so many evening wraps that there is almost a special one for every gown. There is no letting up of fur trimmings; even in the daytime in spite of the warm sun, quantities of coats are collared and cuffed with fur. As Patou says, they take off the ‘“‘poor” look. The favorites are the long-haired fox and lynx varieties. I think, however, that for spring and early summer too much fur looks ostentatious, unless the pelt is unusual and of a flat character. Such an example was worn by Henriette Lady Davis of Cannes, who had a cream-colored homespun Vionnet coat, bordered down the front with a tan and white fur which she said was ‘‘ermine tummies.”’ Chanel, you know, is making colored mole coats for spring, and received a strong endorsement for them when Elsie de Wolfe chose one to wear on the day she became Lady Mend. She wore a frock of green crépe de Chine and over it a straight slim coat of dark green mole with a Reboux toque—the one sketched by Drian for the frontispiece of the April number— in high twisted strands of grosgrain ribbon in two shades of green. Those who do not wear their wraps into the playing rooms often choose a shawl instead. I still see some embroidered Spanish ones, but smarter are the magnificent squares of lamé from Coudurier, which Callot arranges so satisfactorily with deep rich silk fringes. Luza has sketched one of them with a Callot gown of frilled taffeta on the opposite page, which is so perfect a thing in itself that it is above the transitory mode. Fringes are one of the most delightful garnitures ever invented; it is a pity they cost so much. I still often see them; and the other night at dinner in the Casino I saw a well- known woman wearing Chanel’s new evening frock in white, in which the fringes make a bolero line. With it she wore no jewels but diamonds and looked wonderful. Spangles also remain in the mode. They will probably last through the summer; though they have not entirely replaced beads, they are often combined with them in rich embroideries. But nothing quite displaces the chiffon evening frock which is as often in black as any color. Lace, too, is a continued favorite. S| ——_ N A Casino an evening bag of some sort is a necessity, and presents quite a problem. The envelope is perhaps the best, but things will tumble out of the sides of it. Among the newest I have seen is a brocade bag from Orloff. This is of quite important proportions, holds everything safely, and is closed with an old Chinese comb in gold lacquer to match the golden tones of the ancient fabric. Some very LOUISEBOULANGER

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Black knitted straw is used for this new high crowned hat that Reboux is making for some of her smartest clients. One of the smartest hats at Cannes was of antelope felt with a band of grosgrain ribbon in two colors, to match accessories of the costume. Worn by Mrs. Coleridge Ertz. smart women are beginning to carry these Chinese combs in their bags, for the essential touches to a short coiffure. All the accessories of a real é/égante are so exquisitely chosen that one might make a catalog of them. The vanity-case, cigaret-case and holder, the purse, the comb— everything is rare and beautiful. A pretty idea is a big evening handkerchief in flowered chiffon which recalls the color of the frock, or matches the other accessories. The expensive ones have plain borders, but one can make very satisfactory ones of a bit of chiffon picoted by machine. They must be large, however, as they crush into nothing. I have had drawn some of the favorite new models of the Parisienne, chosen from the spring collections to wear in town. It is rather early for me to give you her com- plete choice, but Vionnet’s cape, cut ample and rounded in the upper part and narrow and slim below, has already been chosen by several important clients. It goes over a typical “geometric” frock of black satin. The Chanel coat, shirred all over, like a fabric, and made of dead-leaf brown crépe de Chine, is already a Parisian favorite. In the next number I shall try to give you more of the models which have received the sanction of the Paris season which, as you know, is in May and June. The Vionnet frock cut at the sides with a sailor collar which you see on page 116 is also a certain Parisian success. It is in navy blue, a color which is coming into its own again this spring, and I have seen it worn both with the white tied scarf collar as in the drawing and all in plain blue. The hats on this page from REBOUX HARPER’S BAZAR Another new Reboux hat, called ‘‘ Paris,” was seen often at Cannes; it is made with a wired brim turned down all around.

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LELONG An extremely interesting tailleur from Lelong has a black rep coat, white piqué waistcoat, and smart “odd” skirt, striped with black, white, and red in hand-woven Brittany fabric. On the bodice of a very simple frock of rose-pink crépe are applied figures of darker rose shades in taffeta. This is the type of simple frock worn suc- cessfully under a kasha cloth coat Another similar sports frock is of mauve crépe with the same sort of appliqué. The skirt is made of two shades of mauve crépe sewn together to form sigzags, and finely plaited.

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HARPER’S BAZAR Madame Andre de Vagliano Mrs. Frank Jay Gould wearing while with hat, wearing a Chanel jumper and a skirt of beige and white scarf, and flower in color. The Marquise d’Arcangues in a blue crépe frock, with Madame Lacloche, dressed by Drecoll in sports clothes. ig Madame Pecci-Blunt, in a Chanel coat of stenciled fur and a Reboux felt béret. Patou’s successful white costume with Comtesse Woronsow-Daschkow in a blue stripes worn by Mme. Jay O’ Brien. beige Molyneux frock and a covert coat. SNAPSHOTS FROM CANNES ae it game Tp te

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for MAY 1926 Madame Jean Charles eagle . Madame Besancon, dressed Worth, dressed by Worth, in hit. * . ya by Drecoll, in a beige coat a beige jersey with brown. > ge and scarf in shades of brown. ; Sama hiss , ; ) Oe aw ; ear ‘ a “uake) eee q The Prince and Princess Cito at E Cannes. The Princess is wearing a light wrap furred with natural beige-colored lynx. : P Si 2 a EL | er fr v 7 Mrs. Coleridge Ertz, wear- ing an Yteb frock of gray- beige. Brown accessories. Madame Herriot on a yacht at Cannes, With her beige frock, Mrs. Coleridge in a white and blue sports costume. Ertz wore Reboux’s turned-down hat. SHOW THE NEW SPORTS ENSEMBLES

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Se MAY 1926 FASHION “Since the Days of the Garden of Eden, Men and Women—or Perhaps I Should Say Women and Men— Have Understood the Significance of Temptation, and Practised the Art of Allurement” By THE COUNTESS OF OXFORD AND ASQUITH EXPECT there have been many essays and dissertations upon Fashion, written by men famous for their wit and learning, which, could I but have known about them, would have assisted to make this paper interesting, as a little mild plagiarism is always permissible. But my education was neglected; and except upon etiquette I have never read a line upon the clothes, customs, or adornment of the upper classes at any period in fashionable society. With the exception of human beings, there is nothing more mysterious than fashions, and the questions they raise are closely interwoven the one with the other. What humble designer has been made conspicuous by a famous follower? Who is the power behind the throne, that, after shouting the word of command, changes not only our clothes but our faces, our figures, and our manners? And what is the bed-rock from which fashion springs? - TO Since the days of the Garden of Eden, men and women—or perhaps I should say women and men—have understood the significance of temptation, and practised the art of allurement. Temptation, though discouraged, is not forbidden in the Bible, and allurement has never been considered a sin. It would be curious to know if the spookists who make trivial contributions to our knowledge of the next world would include a guarantee of the continuity of either. If they do not, half the goodness and all the vitality will be taken out of a future we hope to inherit. The mind of man will never be able to dissociate the soul from the body, and as long as love is im- mortal we shall endeavor to attract and pursue it. F I had the proper knowledge I should be able to give varied and unending examples of how the male attracts the female —and vice versa in the world of birds and beasts. But I am a sportsman rather than a naturalist. Had I been a man, what I would most have cared about, after fox-hunting, would have been salmon-fishing. The beauty of moving water, the leisure for uninterrupted reflection, the mixture of patience and alacrity necessary to achieve success, would have been a rest, a pleasure, and an excitement. One might almost say of salmon- fishing what E. V. Lucas has said of cricket: “Cricket is an intricate, vigilant, and leisurely warfare.” Or to quote Izaak Walton: ‘‘We may say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries: ‘Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did;’ and so, if I might judge, God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.” There are many forms of angling not connected with fish. The conjurer who angles to catch youreye while he maneuvers his hands; the politician who angles for votes; the company- promoter who angles for confidence; the press who angle for advertisements; the vulgar who angle for notoriety, the obscure who angle for fame, and the male who angles for the female. In all this pursuing it is not the motive that I propose to examine, but the technique, or method by which mankind achieves its object. Before you can capture you must beguile; you must hold out something which will catch the eye and arrest the attention, and it is for you to decide whether the brilliant colors of a “‘ Durham Ranger,” or the subtler brown of a “Black Dog”’ is most likely to land your fish. In sporting novels of an old-fashioned type—when the ladies wore flowing skirts and pork-pie hats—the followers of the chase were sometimes heard to shout ‘“Yoicks! Tally-ho!”’ when they observed hounds hit off the scent; but in a long experience of fox-hunting I never remember the most ardent sportsman committing himself to such an indiscretion. When you hit off a scent you are usually silent, as anything in the nature of noise or triumph on the part of the pursuer would awaken suspicion. If I were a salmon and saw a “Durham Ranger” hovering over my head I feel sure I would not need any one to shout ‘ Yoicks!”’ as the brilliance of the bait would have put me on my guard, and I would whisk off to the shelter of the nearest bank. But the answer to this is, the brilliance of the lure does not awaken suspicion; and the majority of man- kind succumb to surprise, swallow the bait, and the shouting is silenced. It is certain that in all commerce if your wares are to sell they must be advertised, and whatever you want to entice must be attracted by something that startles the nerves, obscures the vision, and blinds the judement. — a= ‘REMEMBER when I was a girl being offered a reward if I would design an advertisement for soap manufactured at St. Rollox. Something more original was needed than “ Pure Scented Toilet,’’ and I conceived the idea that a figure of Lady Macbeth washing her hands with Tennant soap—which alone would erase the damned spots that were witnesses of her complicity—would advance the family fortunes; but the firm thought I was flippant and rejected my cartoon. Success in the art of advertisement is as difficult as prowess in the lure of love, and both are intimately connected with the idiosyncrasies of human nature. This leads me to think that the changes and extravagances in fashion are subconsciously devised not only to vary the monotony and add to the ornament of society, but to attract the male to the female. It is commonly said that women dress for women; but in a community consisting entirely of women I do not think the majority would take much time over their toilettes. It was noticeable that neither the group of ladies who believed in woman’s suffrage by constitutional methods, nor the more ad- vanced who believed that their object would be gained by threatening the lives of myself, my husband, and my children, were well-dressed. Their desire to discredit men and extol themselves made them indifferent to anything that was likely to attract the male. Their bait was a mixture of violence and hysteria, neither of them attractive, but both of them sensa- tional, and—from a point of view of advertisement—eminently successful. The men who were interested in this movement were not as masculine as the women, and their names will not be even remembered among the Despards, the Pankhursts, and the Smyths. I AM not dealing with the superior women of masculine minds, as these will never be leaders of fashion, but I am dealing with ordinary men and women who from the days of Adam and Eve have understood the game of love, and practised the art of enticement. A man starts with an enormous disadvantage over a woman in playing this game. If he is in earnest and in love, his sensibility is clouded by enthusiasm, and his fear of failure is so great, that he lays down his arms and in this act of capitulation presents himself clumsily. Ifa woman is in earnest, she can adopt a thousand disguises to conceal it, and has a quiverful of arrows none of which she will discard and all of which she will employ to his discomfiture. Men are like children when they are in love; they are amateurs and easily deceived, but however amateur a woman may be in her painting, her sculpture, her music, or her philosophy, she is always a pro- fessional in the science of love. The fact that a man perceived his advantage would prevent him from taking it; but to put him at a disadvantage is more than half the battle with the gentler sex. Though all is con- sidered fair in war and love there are (Continued on page 160)

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102 HARPER’S BAZAR AMPICO The Story of a Ruthless Man Who Constantly Surprised Himself in Love By JosEPH HERGESHEIMER Henry Raleigh DESCRIBED IN PREVIOUS PARTS: OVETT BRADIER: Past forty, sea soned by an exceptionally vigorous and unscrupulous career in the oil-fields of Mexico, depleted by malaria contracted in that career, who has returned to Tampico, after a year of recuperation in New York, to take away the wife of the superintendent of the sea terminal of the Alianza Company at Chorreras. Vipa Corew: Hard, alluring, self-possessed, thoroughly sure of what she wants, and sure that it is an entirely unscrupulous man, some one quite the opposite of her high-principled husband, who has bored her in the difficult life of the Mexican oil country. PRESBY CorEW: Struggling valiantly against baffling odds that hinder the operation of his sea terminal which Bradier had built and given him charge of. Bradier’s interest and feeling of responsibility are increasingly engaged in Corew’s problem, in spite of his determination to confine himself to his one object to take away Vida. GeEorRGE K. Lentz: The official head of the operations in Mexico of the Alianza Company, with offices at Tampico, an executive cut to the Wall Street pattern and apparently un- touched by Mexico. PART THRE! T WAS late when Govett Bradier woke, and there was an indefinite pain at the back of his head, an illusive ache like the memory of a sharp unhappiness. The consciousness of all that had happened, of the night before, flooded immediately into his thoughts, and he lay quietly considering it. A great deal, he told himself, had been made out of compara- tively littke—Vida’s and his emotions had been exaggerated, extravagant; what they had said was, to-day, without reality. And what, after all, had they said? Almost nothing that had a serious meaning. He had talked some nonsense about money, and Vida had been in a mood of general sentimental regretfulness. It was exactly as though he, as a bottle of brandy, had conversed with Vida, who was a goblet of champagne. It was no more than that. He moved impatiently, and the ache pressed with an acuter edge into the base of his brain. What he really blamed himself for, Bradier insisted, was the wasted evening. E ASSURED himself of this, and yet, against the firmness of his conclusion, disconcerting memories of Vida returned to trouble him—her voice, begging for some un- guessable reassurance, her unresponsive hand, the lips that he couldn’t warm into a recognition of his love. There was so much of life that happened independently of speech, even of recognizable acts, a strange vital flow beyond the control of the will, and for which there were no words; and that, Bradier felt, had been very active with them. Vida was at once ap- parent to him and obscure; she resembled a clear pool through which he could follow a sinking pebble for a long way but only to lose it in the shadowy end. Most of her, he dis- covered, was hidden in depths beyond his knowledge. With this recognition a perceptible irritability invaded him, the retaliation of an assaulted vanity: if Vida was going to be so damned queer she would have to recover from it by herself, he would simply wait until she was normal. Bradier grasped the fact that he was beginning to have an indefinite but actual conception of marriage; he had a premonition of its disagreements and arid reaches, the mis- understandings and cunning resentful attacks. It had as well, naturally, its moments of im- measurable delight and serenity, and invalu- able cheerfulness; but it was a variegated cloth and not a romantic tapestry of pastoral and amorous joys. HE opinions he had held only a day or two before had been painfully inadequate, ignorant; they had been merely juvenile. He had been blinded, the truth was, by his pas- sion for Vida; he had forgotten that both Vida and he were, well—human, and that nothing, not even his love for her, could permanently alter them. Vida would undoubtedly drink too much champagne again and, growing as- sertive, he would forget the necessities of her more sensitive being. He was, Bradier told about the whole himself, cooler, reasonable, “Standing, Adeline gave Bradier the impression of a mummi- fied immobility; her features were no more capable of the changes of emotion than bone.” affair. It was the best, the safest, thing that could have happened; for now, knowing what to expect, the words couldn’t surprise nor upset him. However, with Vida the very worst wouldn’t be bad; he reminded himself of his good fortune in possessing her love. She was a singularly truthful woman, a quality that came from her indifference to consequences, her courage. Bradier got up quickly, and, as a result, he nearly fell from giddiness. He caught the back of a chair and steadied himself, and the pain in his head stabbed into him savagely. T WAS simply the consequence of his drink- ing, his drunkenness, he reflected; when he had had a cold bath he’d be splendid. It was something not to have been positively ill. The bath did revive him, but, dressing, his hands shook lamentably; and he sent a China boy to the dining-room for a pot of coffee; he had no desire for breakfast. It was noon, the day was beautiful and clear, and he went up on the lookout. The marine superintendent, Captain Scott, was at the signal "se hyacos via eee are me

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— Pasa RAG Fa gee Toe mee os Tacaaae RST “ Bradier answered, outraged, ‘No, no, he practically fainted ropes and a tanker was standing inshore. The surf boat had been already launched witha mooring master, the custom’s clerk, and a boat- ful of sailors. A launch picked them up beyond the breakers and proceeded out to the tank ship. “Good morning, Mr. Bradier,’’ the marine superintendent said; “I would like to see a little more activity down here. We have the oil if you could only persuade them in New York to give us the boats.” E HAD been honorably retired from the United States Navy; a man well over sixty, but still keen, who lived by himself in a small house near the pumping station. He was, he admitted to Bradier, at the point of sending in his resignation to Mr. Lentz. “T haven’t been as brisk as usual the last month,” he went on, ‘“‘and I might say that was the reason, to any one but you. The actual reason is I have been too much interfered with. I haven’t been allowed to run this port —that’s what it is—right. I'll give you an instance—I wasn’t allowed to discharge Lissert. Or at least Mr. Lentz asked me specially, not more than ten days ago, to give him a longer try. God knows what he thought when you sent him back to Tampico. You see, you are privileged, and very correctly.” “Captain Scott,’’ Bradier demanded, “I'd be obliged if you’d tell me this—are you resign- ing from the Alianza Company on account of Mr. Lentz?” “Exactly, Mr. Bradier,’’ Scott replied, ‘I am not leaving the Company but Lentz.” Govett Bradier was interested to know why. “TI don’t like him,” Scott declared. ‘“ He’s wanting, although I can’t decide how. I used to think he had something against me, or he wanted to make that Lissert marine superin- tendent; then it occurred to me it was Mr. Corew he was after. I don’t know. I thought it over until I saw what was right for me.” Bradier was occupied with a new and aston- ishing view of George K. Lentz—he was con- sidering him in the capacity of deliberately wrecking the Alianza interests in the Zaca- mixtle Valley and at Chorreras. It was fantastic but supported by a surprising number of apparently accidental and casual happenings. He recalled Lentz’s conversation with him in Tampico, his persistent depreciation of the southern field; Deleker had complained about the difficulties put in the way of the lake trans- portation; and Payo Galve had been so exasper- ated by Lentz that he had been afraid of shooting him. HE figure of George K. Lentz rose up in Bradier’s mind: the preciseness of his clothes, the correctness of his manner, his whole air, made such a conclusion seem ridiculous. He was the last man in the world to suspect of intrigue, secret movements. He had lived in Mexico, at the head of the Alianza operations there, without acquiring a trace of the local spirit. Lentz made a fetish of the methods of a conventional, patently frank, American executive. He had even gone so far as to be seen in church with Mrs. Lentz. 103 when I touched him.’ ”’ “Have you talked to Mr. Corew about this?” he asked Scott. He hadn’t. “I thought Mr. Corew had enough bother as it was. Now I have confi- dence in him, Mr. Bradier. He’s had a rough passage down here, half the time he hasn’t known if he was in the jungle or the Gulf, and he’s taken it well. It’s killing him, but he hasn’t complained.” IRST Payo Galve and then Scott had ex- pressed their approval of Presby; their opinion had been even higher than his, Govett Bradier’s. “T’ll say this, too,” the marine superinten- dent went bluffly on; “‘it would have been better for that young man without the woman he’s got. I’ve noticed her and she’s as cold a piece as was ever chipped off an iceberg of conceit. She is too superior to breathe the common air. And if she was mine I’d sew a strip of canvas around those legs.”’ That was a development of the conversa- tion as unexpected as it was distasteful. Govett Bradier said stiffly, ‘“‘We can confine ourselves to the sea terminal. We are dis- cussing oil and men, Captain Scott.”’ Just as stiffly Scott replied that he was mentioning Mr. Corew’s wife. Those who didn’t like it would have to meet it as they saw fit. Bradier realized there was nothing to be gained by protesting further; the old man was thoroughly aroused. ‘“‘And I'll thank you, Mr. Bradier, not to (Continued on page 140)

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HARPER’S BAZAR Counsel on Country Clothes © CAREFULLY careless is the effect of the smartest country costumes. Something like the clothes of a_ well-dressed Englishman, which never look either old or new. € CLEVER combinations of color are smarter than entirely matched costumes. “ CONTRASTS between strong colors, red, blue, green, and neutrals, beige and _ white, are smarter than pastel shades. © COMBINATIONS of several shades of the same color are good. © COLORS chosen for accent are the reds, bright or dark but not wine; all the blues, especially cornflower and linen; emerald and grass greens; the background colors are beige, white, and dark blue, which latter is also good in town. © COAT sweaters in bright color are very good with white or beige costumes with matching hat, handkerchief, nosegay, and bag. © CONTRARILY, hats, shoes, and gloves fre- quently remain in the beige shades when the rest of the costume is of a different color. © CARNATIONS and cornflowers, according to color, are the favorite country flowers; orchids are still the evening favorites in town. “€ CONCERNING the béret—it is one of the most successful spring hats, in felt, crocheted straw, and combination weaves of hemp and straw. “ CROWNS of the new hats are high, and they are often crumpled; brims are growing wider, they are wired, and often turn down all round. ©" CONTRASTING colors or shades in narrow grosgrain ribbons encircle many beige and white felt hats. “ COUNTRY footgear for sports should be a combination of white buckskin and tan calf in one and two strap models and oxfords. © COMBINATIONS of lizard and kid, boa and kid, and lizard and boa used alone are worn with the softer type of dress, in pump, sandal, one and two strap models, and occasionally in oxford form. ©" COLORED shoes, real color like red and blue, are only occasionally seen; they are dangerous to chic unless chosen with intelligence to complete a certain type of costume. © CONFLICT between the envelope and the bag type of purse continues; but it is smart to have either match the shoes. © CASINOS require a wrap; so chiffon extra coats and unlined coats to match evening frocks have been adopted. © THE smart daytime glove is still the pull-on antelope model in beige, or sometimes in white. A tailleur with a long coat from Beer, of fine wool rep in a Parma violet shade, with inserts of plaits in the sides, fastened with a buckle across a white piqué waistcoat is very smart. important. This one BERNARD Tailleurs with capes are very checked and plain fabric— which is also important. plain fabric is greenish blue, the checked greenish blue and white. ~ re an, —EEE

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JEAN TYPICAL SHORT-COATED TAILLEURS MAGNIN | BEER i \ This is the front of the long-coated rep tailleur on the opposite page. FROM THE NEW PARIS COLLECTIONS In the new collections there are many of these little box-coats, and a tendency toward a far more feminine tailleur. This one has a jacket of embroidered cotton velvet in pastel green. The skirt is matching kasha cloth, and the blouse of Georgette crépe. These short coats and the cape tai!leur are indicative of an entirely new feeling—one of the important notes in the made. (Middle) A typical new tailleur is of plaid in light green and beige. The four-button jacket and shawl revers are worth attention. This is an example of a frock and short coat looking like a coat and skirt. (Right) The taffeta tai!leur is a note in many col- lections. This one, from Jenny, is most picturesque, in black edged with characteristic fine little frills.

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MARTIAL €t 1RMAND This is the way the front of the green tailleur shown al the upper left looks.

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= - ————————— 106 A WARDROBE Necessary Occasions

REBOUX Grosgrain ribbon, with a row of stripes of of grosgrain in two i , colors at one side. HAVE imagined, on these two pages, the case of a lady traveling to Deauville by automobile with her husband, to pass a week-end which begins on late Friday afternoon, and ends on Monday morning. All she has for the transporta- tion of her entire outfit is half of one of those ‘‘ Adam and Eve” motor trunks, which Monsieur de Monvel has sketched on page eighty-eight, and her fitted dressing-bag. The weather in Northern France is something with which no sane person takes chances; so both warm and cool clothes must be provided; and, in the circumscribed space of one suit-case, she must manage to pack daytime clothes for two days and a bit, and evening clothes for three nights, with all their accessories, including the neces- sary, but knobby and incompressible, shoes for each costume. Here is the problem; now what shall we let X equal? Obviously, her first preoc- cupation must be her color scheme. Since blues are new and extremely smart this spring, I suggest a harmony in blues and cream for daytime. with evening things in black and white. She can get her color in easily packed accessories. LMOST as obvious as the color scheme is the fact that most of her daytime ward- robe must travel on her person. here are two possible cos- tumes, and I have had both of them sketched. One is the tailleur—jacket, skirt, and blouse; and the other the coat and frock combination. These are always the alternatives for travel costume, and both have devoted advocates. Suppose our traveler inclines to the suit idea. Then a per- fect choice for her is the Worth suit on this page. The original model is in browns and pink, but Monsieur Worth does not mind translating it into blues for us. The type is one that is extremely smart this spring, and the coat, as you notice, is of plain navy blue material, The coat of this tailleur is dark while the skirt is in those

WORTH lL useful motor coat cream-colored leather, lined with stenciled shaved rabbit. BPARPER’S BAZAR FOR A WEEK-END ay ™ Carefully Selected Clothes, Chosen for Packing In a Given Space, and to Cover All

DRECUOLL blouse in the original is in pale pink crépe; I suggest it in cream, and a plaited crépe skirt to match which takes not much more room than a big handkerchief, and, worn with the blouse, gives a little cream crépe frock for a sunny morning. For the trip down, our traveler will wear this Worth suit, with the cream leather coat over it which comes from Drecoll. It is in dressed leather, shiny side out, so as to be suitable to any weather. If it is cold on arrival, its light color makes it per- fectly appropriate for country wear, and if it is raining—always a horrible possibility in Normandy—the shiny leather will turn the wet. HE alternative to the suit is the coat and frock ensemble. Drecoll, this year, shows a number of them, in which the coat of rep, serge, or kasha is more like a wool frock than a coat, can be worn alone, and goes on over a frock of toile de soie, or men’s silk shirting, which has the merit of washing like the proverbial rag. <A charming model is_ sketched opposite the suit. The outer frock is in navy blue rep, and the frock in “‘linen’”’ blue silk, just the blue of men’s blue shirts. If this type is adopted, the two frocks may be worn either together, or separately, according to occasion or the weather. The combination of navy with linen blue is one of the very smartest color schemes this spring. So far, our traveler is like the snail, in that she carries her whole outfit on her back. All she has had to put in the suit- case, so far, is her alternative crépe skirt. On her feet she will wear shoes of boa and kid, or lizard and kid, which match the bag or envelope purse she carries, and are of a color to look well in either town or country. The new gray-beige is very good with blue. DRE¢ On her head she might wear one of the new bérets from OLL An ensemble of dark blue and

blue, the skirt striped like men’s trousering. Cream crépe blouse. unequal fine stripes character- istic of men’s trousering. The Agnés, because they are im- mensely smart, and having a linen blue. The coat is fine rep; the frock of linen blue toile de sote.

toe cs

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i} \ TT EE ~ a . REE CO Pee Rn tMa? ee A Spanish shawl adapted for wear as a Casino wrap, edged with heavy fringe 1926 MAY wire in the brim, do not pack as well as the softer types of grosgrain or felt. This hat would be in linen blue, and round her neck she would wear a scarf of the same, in toile de soie or surah silk, either in checks of blue and cream, or in plaited shaded blue crépe, or in plain matching blue surah. Later, with her cream crépe frock, she can make an interest- ing combination with the blue hat and the scarf, which will prettily vary her restricted wardrobe. Her gloves for the trip will be beige antelope pull-ons, and she will put a pair of cham- ois, either white or natural, in her dressing-bag. If an accident happens to them, they are washable, though as a rule it is better to have them cleaned. ET us suppose that our traveler is a real sportswoman who plays either tennis or golf. She may play tennis in the cream crépe or in the blue toile de soie frock, and after playing, she will slip on the plain navy blue coat sweater of worsted, made like a man’s, that she carries in her dressing-bag, or tucks behind her back in the car. Her playing shoes are a pair of the espadrilles of the country. And if room is too constricted, she may count upon buying them at any village store in France and leaving them behind her when she goes. If she is a golfer, it might be better to choose the tailleur cos- tume in the first place, because the striped skirt with a manly cream silk blouse, navy tie, and navy coat-sweater, will give her a good playing costume. She will do well, in this case, to travel in her golf shoes, which are not too much out of place in a car, and put her pumps or sandals in the suit-case. Neces- sary playing stockings can easily find place in the golf bag or in corners. A really plain sports hat in felt which rolls up and tucks in anywhere, even into the pocket of her leather coat, may have a series of bands, two blues, cream and black, or even a deep red to match a big handkerchief. Let her pina deep red rose or carnation on her lapel, and the red in her accessories is justified. Grosgrain is another hat ma- terial which folds into a few inches of space. Reboux makes a lot of grosgrain hats this spring, so that the choice is wide. One of them is sketched, Fy RENEE with its ornament of nar- row stripes set up one side, in many shades of the same color, or in the two colors that make up the costume. Another re- peats the béret, all in sections of grosgrain. Luza has sketched on page ninety-six a type of Reboux hat which was immensely good at Cannes, and which I know can be rolled into a small space because I have done it. This hat has the brim which is a new note of the season, and turns down flatteringly and protectingly all round. It may have any number of grosgrain bands in two colors to slip over it. With all this, the daytime hours are well and smartly provided for. HREE evenings demand three costumes, for though no one minds appearing often in the same daytime clothes, one must show considerable variety in the evening. Soulié’s sketches on this page suggest one solution of this problem. Let one of the frocks be a thin black lace, such as the pretty one sketched from Worth. On Friday evening wear the black frock as it is; and on Saturday wear over it a black chiffon coat, touched with silver, like Patou’s “ Dalmatique,” and match your slippers to the silver. Or tie round the shoulders a big square of chiffon, 4 la Chanel, adding flowers to match, and black slippers with heels to match the flowers. The original Worth model has trails of colored chiffon falling from flow- ers pinned at one hip. These also serve to vary the frock, with fresh flowers, such as the mode fancies for the moment, arranged on the opposite shoulder, or in a rather long line down the right side of the décolleté— the right side, so that they will not be crushed in dancing. These pages will give you many ideas for varying your lace frock sufficiently. A black chiffon frock is an even greater evening favorite of the moment; but chiffon needs press- ing after a trip in a suit- case, and you may find it difficult to get this done in time. A black fringed gown travels extremely well; but it is harder to vary with accessories than a lace one. Sunday night, there is usually a gala, which de- mands a frock of white or color. White is still the leading favorite, I think, and so your frock might well be white. Gala frocks usually glitter; fre- quently they are of spangles; often they are in silver, tubes, and strass. still richly beaded or jeweled; often heavily fringed. I suggest for suit-case travel a gown from Worth, which is newer than any of these things. It is of white chiffon, and I have just said that chiffon travels badly; but in this case the chiffon has been treated so as to make it almost uncreasable. It is beaded and embroidered with tubes and strass and silver thread, and instead of the trimming making the pattern, the design of circles is made by leaving the material plain and embroidering all round it. This is very new. If you wore silver slippers with your other gown, you might easily wear them again with this. Perhaps you chose black satin with col- ored heels for the black gown; in any case there will probably be room for two pairs. Stockings for evening should match your skin, but take several pairs more than you think you will need both for day and evening. When you are short is the time that acci- dents always choose to happen. The question of the eve- ning wrap is the one which has given me the most trouble. A really handsome fur-trimmed wrap simply will not go into a suit-case, and would be spoiled if it did. I think we will have to pretend that the evenings are warm, and let our traveler “make out” with shawls. A magnificent bro- cade one, splendidly fringed, takes surprisingly little space WORTH when folded. This would be worn with the first gown. With the second, I suggest WORTH For gala evenings, a frock of white chiffon, with elaborate embroidery Black lace, with the smart bolero line. At the side is a long trail of colored chiffon. the Renée wrap, which is really a sort of adaptation of the (Concluded on page 158)

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SAKS—FIFTH HARPER’ Tae udevy ape ENSEMBLE THE (Top) Boa-skin combined with leather, both in a shade of gray-beige, is used for this envelope purse that will hold, conveniently, letters, tickets, bills, and note-book. The umbrella shown is of red surah silk with a leather handle and ferrule. This type of crook-handled um- brella that hooks over the arm is most convenient. Shown at the top, on the left, is one of the very few practical perfume atomizers in existence. This one is of gold, large enough to hold a worthwhile supply. A traveling clock that folds up into a small tan leather case is also of tan leather, with an illuminated dial and an alarm Iccessories from Lord and Taylor. Luggage from I1VENUE IDEA TO TRAVEL AND TO ITS ACCESSORIES PENETRATES NOW At the lower left is a very smart French trunk made to hold dresses. It is of natural colored raw-hide, beauti- fully lacquered, and lined with bright vermilion padding. A French wardrobe trunk, not too large to fit in a state room conveniently, is of natural colored raw-hide to match the dress trunk, and is also lined with vermilion. The wrap worn by the lady is from Vionnet, and is a biouse-back cape cut to fit exactly over the shoulders by a series of graduated strips. From Lord and Taylor. A natural raw-hide bag, designed to form an ensemble with the wardrobe-trunk and dress trunk, is built like a man’s bag, and holds enough for over a night’s journey. NE as PSS A a TRS

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Bre Oke ek SIRENS es — Suéde gloves, very soft and of washable antelope, are hand-stitched with heavy black stitching. The fastening is one pearl button. This is the smart short glove. (Top) At the left is shown a red morocco leather bag to be carried with the umbrella on the page opposite. This bag is of the Chanel type, that holds everything. The same bag shown with its special passport pocket open. This pocket opens separately on the outside of the bag so that there is no frantic searching for it. At the upper right is a pair of French pull-on pinkish beige suéde gloves. These are washable, and heavily stitched in black by hand on both the backs and edges. Si oR 7 TESA Dptdneed TRUNKS AND BAGS ARE OF THE SAME OR HARMONIZING MATERIALS TE CHOSEN MADE (Below right) Chamois-colored gloves of washable antelope suede pull on and are suitable to be worn with any daytime costume of the sports or travel type. (Below at the left) A large French wardrobe trunk of natural raw-hide is lacquered so that it has a deep glazed patina. The lining is of the same beige color. Shown open is a square hat-box of beige pig-skin to match the other luggage. This box has been designed to hold the innumerable small felt hats one wears now. (Lower right) To match the other natural raw-hide luggage shown on these pages is an excellent shoe-trunk fitted with two trays, each of which holds seven pairs. }

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HARPER’S BAZAR Models on this page imported by SAKS FIFTH AVENUE THE SUCCESSFUL COSTUME FOR TRAVEL IS THE MODIFIED SPORTS COSTUME (Above, left) A perfectly cut and extremely smart tailored suit should be included in every travel wardrobe, for practically every type of travel. This French suit is made of two shades of brown and beige checked fabric; the lighter of the two shades is used for the skirt. Chanel makes a top-coat that is unusually smart for travel, one that may be worn over simple sports frocks or sweaters and skirts, of checked tweed in shades of light and dark green. The low waist-line, with its smartly buckled narrow belt, is very good. This Suzanne Talbot model, sometimes called the “doorman’s coat,” is picturesque and at the same time smart—a coat that would be extremely useful for travel. It is of beige kasha duvetyn, with a rather fitted bodice, and a skirt fulled on with the effect of cartridge plaiting. (Extreme right, top) A French striped jumper and plaited skirt is of beige wool jersey, striped with brown. This type of costume, with proper accessories, is suitable and smart for travel and general wear. (Lower left) Soft gray-green frisca is used for this Jane Regny sports frock. (Right) Molyneux uses a fabric similar to frisca, tan, with inserts of brown selvage. The skirt is plaited in front only, which is an ad- vantage for traveling, and the plaits are stitched down half-way. With a darker tan top-coat this frock would make a smart ensemble. ——EE

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1926 for MAY | Models on this page imported by LORD AND TAYLOR THE EVENING GOWN FOR TRAVEL MUST BE CAREFULLY No f CONSIDERED ’ The Suzanne Talbot gown at the upper left was chosen as an excellent evening gown for travel because it is of a heavy crinkled metal cloth that will stand packing. It is a gown that may be worn on rather important occasions, of flowered lamé over a green and gold lamé. (Middle, top) Rather more of a dinner frock, but important enough to be worn on many evening occasions, is a black satin Jenny gown made with a flared silhouette. Flesh pink satin edges the V neck, forms a diagonal line across the bodice, and the bow tied on the left hip. (Upper right) A frock covered entirely with silvery white paillettes, made in two tiers, is an ideal gown to take traveling. This frock re- mains entirely unaffected by packing and by dampness. The frock is flat in front and back, but the tiers are gathered on the sides. (Left, below) Heavy crépe marocain in a vivid yellow-green is used for this beautiful and extremely smart Callot gown. The skirt is made in two tiers, the upper one has a flat heavy bow in front. The only ornament is a long trail of flesh-colored flowers with green leaves. | (Right) Another type of extremely practical and smart evening frock | | for travel is of Georgette crépe so heavily weighted with bead ornaments 4 that it cannot wrinkle. The one shown here is a French gown of yellow Georgette crépe with diagonal lines of yellow and white beads.

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HARPER’S BAZAR For the exotic woman is an eve- An afternoon frock for the exotic ning gown of silver lamé bordered woman is of bands of black and | with silver knots tufted like fur. white crépe, buttoned to a cord. FROCKS AND FACES | Erté Says the Faces Were Made Before Frocks, and Frocks Should Be Chosen Accordingly E ARE in the habit of designating women who pass before us by simple and common words: beautiful, pretty, charming, ugly, et cetera. What strikes us in the human body is the ensemble of features ‘ and lines. But just study a little closer a“ pretty’ or a “‘charm- ing’’ woman and you will notice many defects, serious enough irregularities in their physical structure. But even so you will continue to qualify them as “pretty,” ‘‘charming,” or even “beautiful,” without taking into account that the nose of the latter has nothing in common with classic beauty. You in no way flatter women; you notice in each what should be noticed: personality—which consists of movements, look, method of greeting friends .. . all this is in the domain of personal character. And then—her way of dressing and wearing clothes. The dress should correspond to the character of the woman, to her tastes and thoughts, as well as to the lines of her body. The mystery of taste is manifested in knowing how to choose. Here is an ingénue with candid air—the débutante, a flower scarcely opened. Her evening dress, spreading out like a beautiful rose, is of changeable taffeta (alas! it is the symbol of youth), light gray with pink shadows—youth sees the gray background of life as rose color. All over the dress is embroidered a large branch in black silk and gold thread, ending at its two extremities in two enormous pink flowers. One of these flowers forms around the neck a sort of large Pierrot collar, with the face for the stamen of the flower. For the same débutante—an afternoon dress, also bouffant, in mauve taffeta. The pocket represents a spider’s web made of white silk threads and a big black spider is placed in the center, while an orange handkerchief shows in the pocket. An evening gown for lie mature 5 5 woman $3 of gray crepe ce | hine / Thus the vivid colors of youth are imprisoned in the spider’s in different tones, held together web, which represents life. If you tell me that these two with embroidery. The sleeves are dresses could be worn by a woman of forty, I shall tell you made of four long draped scarfs. that your imagination is more winged than mine.

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for MAY 1926 113 I ae fon er Se The jeune fille should dress like Bouffant mauve taffeta, with a a flower, with spreading bouf- pocket like a spider’s web of fant skirts of rose-gray taffeta. white, with a black spider in it. Here is a beauté du diable, with irregular features, with turned- up nose, with slanting eyes, with mocking mouth and hair the color of flame. This type of woman is very seductive and re- quires an appropriate garb. You see that I have for her a dress as irregular in line as her own features. The dress is made of draped scarfs of white crépe and vivid blue crépe. A big knot on the left side, straight line on the opposite side; one arm bare, the other covered by the ends of the scarfs. A woman with a Roman profile or a woman teaching the catechism to her chil- dren could never wear such a dress! Short skirts for older women! They have been worn, they are still worn, but really, for ladies of a certain age, the short skirt is ridiculous. Here is an evening dress for a fruit mur (ripe fruit, mature woman). It is made of gray crépe de Chine in different tones superimposed one on the other so as to give the effect of shading. The skirt is very long and very wide. The folds are separated by embroidery in gold. A long tassel weights the embroidered motif on the front of the dress. The material ends in four long scarfs which are draped on the arms. I should not like to see this dress on a débutante. Neither on a femme etrange, the exotic woman who often passes before my eyes in a dream as in reality—a woman with long almond- shaped eyes, black hair cut in steps, serpent body—narrow, long, and lithe. For such a type the toilette should also be exotic. Her evening dress is in silver lamé embroidered with a kind of fur made of silver thread forming very small knots, likeastrakhan. The dress is very short on the left side and forms a long train on the right side, and a wideleft sleeve. On the right arm, as well as on the leg, threads of little pearls held by motifs of strass, form close sheathes. For the afternoon my “exotic woman”? will choose a dress at the same time simple and original. This dress will be made of bands of white and black crépe; these bands are attached by buttons of sculptured jade to a green and silver cord which starts from the left shoulder, crosses on the right side, and is me attached to the left hip with an enormous tassel of jade-green } silk, and silver. There is only a left sleeve; the right arm is covered by a square of white crépe. I have chosen a few of the most striking feminine types. . dhegace There are others. There are quantities of others. There are as irregular in line as her no two women who resemble each other, but alas! there are features, made of scarfs of many dresses which resemble each other. white and vivid blue crépe. The red-haired piquant beauty should wear a frock

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The CONCLUSION RS. BOND was out early one morning. M Awaking pleasantly after the health- iest of sleeps, she had seen, as it were in a vision, that the sleeves of the new dress would never do. And how could it be that she had nof seen that last night? She had considered the sleeves while undressing, and they had seemed to her exactly the thing. And now this morning. Miss Nightingale, the little dressmaker just below St. Paul’s Church, was both cheap and obliging, so obliging indeed that she encouraged Mrs. Bond to bully her and positively enjoyed being trampled upon. Cheap and obliging, yes, but so hardworking that before you knew where you were those sleeves would be finished, and then what a business of altering and altering. important in 1906. So there was nothing for it but to hurry through breakfast and go down and stop her. So tiresome, but it was Mrs. Bond’s duty to Polchester that she should be properly dressed, and for her duty she would do anything. They would never do. Sleeves were T WAS a lovely September morning and Mrs. Bond, having enjoyed a pleasant chatty time during the last week or two, and having most amiably been as kind as possible to half a dozen spirits. The sun shone upon everything and Mrs. Bond could not help but think that she was rather like the sun beaming upon Polchester with the rays of her happiness and talent, and what Pol- chester would do without her, Mrs. Bond, modest though she was, found it impossible to imagine. Miss Nightingale also found it impossible to reputations, was in excellent “*Well, I'd better do it,’ Johanson whispered, sighing, to himself.” MER JOHN Story of a Man Who Gave All He Had for Beauty By HtGuH WALPOLE Illustrated by T. D. Skidmore imagine and said so, which was noble of her considering how little Mrs. Bond paid her and how much work she demanded of her. She scolded her now about the sleeves and explained to her that she would never be able to retain the custom of the best people in Pol- chester unless she kept her eyes open, and Miss Nightingale, although this alteration in the sleeves was precisely the one that a week ago she had recommended, entirely agreed with her. \fter this had been most satisfactorily settled and Miss Nightingale, who had sat up all night to finish a dress in time, had sighed and smiled and sighed and then sat down to the sleeves, Mrs. Bond greeted, as one sovereign another, the sun again. geht she took her way up the hill. One did not hurry on so lovely a morning. It was then that she saw a strange sight. Posi- tively shining in the sun was a seat and this seat was newly painted a dazzling white. So new was the paint that tied to the corner of the seat was a notice ‘‘WET PAINT”’ written in a large and sprawling hand. Mrs. Bond had never noticed this seat before (and, indeed, she was not often in this low part of the town). Nor would she have noticed it now had it not for the sun. From no spirit of vulgar curiosity but rather because she was in a way Polchester’s guardian and must be aware of everything, she crossed the street and examined the seat. Then she saw some- thing truly astonishing! Behind the seat and under the shadow of a spreading tree was a little fountain, the prettiest little fountain ever! been HARPER’S BAZAR Mrs. Bond had never seen it before, she had never before noticed this corner with its charming view over the lower Surely it was new. town, the river and the fields. Avoiding very carefully the fresh paint, she bent forward. Here was a beautiful thing! With her con- tinental taste she could most truly appreciate it. A little improper, perhaps (the satyr wore no fig leaf), but here too her continental taste helped her. The delicate symmetry of its gentle curves, the running groups of figures (gods and goddesses, Bacchus and his crew, Paris and the apple, what were they?) the carving of vine leaves and fruits and flowers, how delicious and classical! And how nobly it stood, raising its central figure so daintily and with such dignity! Then, peering more closely, she saw a date. 1735. 1735! All those years and she had never seen it until now. Nor any one else. No one had ever spoken about it. She stayed for a moment, losing, for the briefest instant, her consciousness of herself, Louisa Bond, her consciousness of her position, her wit and talent, her kindliness and good- humor. With a little breath of a sigh she moved away. Here was something for her to speak about! She was the first, positively the first! And with that up swept her consciousness again. She was her normal self, thank God, once more. N THAT same morning Johanson spent half an hour with Reuben Fletch in his office. Very quiet there. Very friendly and very cold. Johanson was there in that neat, stern, and unaccommodating room exactly half an hour.

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for MAY 1926 He was very uncomfortable. He always hated to ask for anything and especially did he hate to ask Fletch for anything. And yet he must. He must ask whether the payment of the next instalment for the new rooms might be postponed for a little. Or possibly they might be let to some one else. The business that he was doing just at this moment did not quite justify him... . How he hated it! And yet Fletch was, as he had always been to him, very kind, speaking in his low voice, smiling often, conveying no hint that he had ever heard that Johanson was a failure or was conscious at all of the terrible scandal of the recent lecture. But no one in Polchester was able to make Johanson feel so absolutely that he was both a foreigner and a fool. He was both these things he knew it well. But he did not want Fletch to tell him. Fletch, smiling a little sadly, shook his head. “You see, Mr. Johanson,” (he was one of the en, people in Polchester who knew Johanson’s name exactly), “those rooms are an awkward size. A little difficult. And, of course, you are liable. No getting away from that, I am afraid. I fancied that you were a little precipitate, but I didn’t like to say anyth‘ng. It was not my place. We all make mistakes, of course.”’ Silence followed. Fletch never said anything when there was nothing to say. Johanson stood in the middle of the room without moving. Yes, he was a fool. He saw it in Fletch’s eyes, and he saw it also in the eyes of the young clerk who entered at that moment. “Well, you shall let me know if anything—’’ “Why, of course, I'll let you know, Mr. Johanson.” “Good day.” ““Good day, Mr. Johanson.”’ It was a wet afternoon, wet with a thin driv- ing rain. Autumn had come in and you knew that in the woods the trees were shaking their heads and shivering, aware that they were soon to lose their leaves. The lamps were blurred and people were not visible, only umbrellas. As he entered his room closing his door behind him he was aware, as though it were personified for him by the actual presence of a dark and silent stranger, that the worst and most terrible hour of his life was with him. E HAD known few bad hours although things had often not gone well with him, and it was because of this perhaps that he had kept until now so much of the boy’s tempera- ment. But on this dark and shivery afternoon in this desolate room he was a boy no longer. There are states in the soul—dark, lonely, suspicious states—that no boy can know. Johanson was aware that such a state stood now behind his chair. He sat down at the table, took some papers that had to do with his business, set them before him and tried to study them. He knew that he must once again close his oftice, and this time, perhaps, permanently, but that did not touch him. He knew that beyond the rain-starred window the little fountain was standing, but that did not touch him. He knew that below the fountain was Seatown, miserable enough on this wet evening, the place that had of late be- come with him an obsession, but that did not touch him. He saw none of these things. He saw only him- self facing him at the other 115 end of the table. He saw himself as a fool and as a failure, a complete and total failure. This was the first thing that hurt him, that he felt himself now a foreigner in this little town that had seemed only a few short months ago to be his true home. He had loved it from the moment that he had entered it, and it had seemed at once to respond to his love. It had had something so beautiful, so touching, and so personal about it that it had appeared to him as though it must have been meant for him. Now it had abruptly been taken away from him. He told Longstaffe afterward that he fancied that the rain as it lashed the window was carry- ing the message of the town’s scorn and dislike to his ears. Then, behind the town, he saw Maude. Now he lowered his head and groaned aloud. He could see how foolish, yes, and how ignorant and how selfish he had been. UST before entering the hall on the night of his lecture some man near the door (he had not seen his face) had come up to him and whispered: ‘‘ Your Miss Penethen’s engaged to young Boultewood.”’ All through the evening those words had whispered and whispered. Young Boultewood! A miserable ne’er-do- well with whom she could never be happy. Stung with this thought he paced his room, walking fast, his head down. Oh! he must persuade her! He must show her! He must do something! He sat down again and quickly wrote to her. (This letter was found afterward in the drawer of this same table.) DEAR MAUDE: You shall not want to here of me but I beg you becaus we was friends before and hav butiful memorys to read this little letter. I am not spelling this very wel becaus I am writing it fast becaus of my feelings but I do beg you just to read it and think of what I say. I hav been told that you hav engaged yourself to mary young Mr. Boultewood and I think that perhaps you hav done this becaus you are angry with me and not becaus you luv him. Dear Maude I don’t hope you shal do this when you don’t luv him truely. Place me right out of youre mind and don’t say I shal do this becaus I hate anuther man but only do it if you luv him. Perhaps I am wrong and you do luv him then Maude I hav no rite to say a word but if it is becaus you hate me don’t do it Maude don’t do it. You hav all your life to come and I am not important enuff for you to spoil your life becaus of me. Think not of me but of yourself Maude. HJALMAR JOHANSON. But when he had finished this letter he felt in a greater despair (Continued on page 120) “The temptation to take her in his arms was terrible. Johanson had to stop where he was and think of her.”

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HARPER’S BAZAR

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6 for MAY 192

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HARPER’S BAZAR

(Top) An afternoon robe de sty #§ we (Middle) <A modified robe de in the typical Lanvin spirit is of style is of black tulle, sprinkled yellow taffeta edged with silver lace. with tiny bouquets of rococo roses.

White organdie with spreading bouf- A classic robe de style is of white fant skirts is ornamented with huge satin with gold lamé motifs and a organdie roses in shades of rose. wide hem of gold lamé and stitching. THE GOWNS LANVIN MADE FOR RAQUEL MELLER

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Address ~ = City — State | } | HARMER Hugh Walpole’s HARPER’S BAZAR JOHN Novel (Continued from page 115) than before. What influence could he have over her now? What influence could he hope to have? He had no right and when she read this letter she would only be angry and more obstinate than before in her purpose. He had lost her, but he thought that he could bear that if he had not also the belief that he had ruined her. And for what? For the prosecution of some vague empty ideal that would be childish to any other man than he. Why could he not have waited quietly in the town doing his honest work, winning the approval of all good men, minding his own affairs? Why must he resent so intensely that Ronder and others, men older than he and wise in the ways of this country, should show him what he should do and should order his steps a little? Was it not the last arrogance for him to resent their ad- vice and think that he knew better than they? His evening with Wistons that had seemed to him at the time to involve a genuine struggle of the soul now, in retrospect, appeared to be only the struggle of his self-will and conceit for liberty. His continual assertion of his friendship for the Longstaffe’s appeared to him now a mock- ery. What had come of that? What had he done but to involve them in further and more public scandal? Why, he had not seen them during the last weeks. It was true that he had kept away from them after the fight in Sea- town and the fiasco of the lecture out of a kind of delicacy and they had stayed away from him he supposed for something of the same reason, but how ironical that he should have wrecked all his life with Maude for the sake of people whom he never saw! Tom whom he loved more than any one in the world after Maude (and more deeply than Maude in certain spiritual ways), Tom who was more than a brother, who had seemed part of him- self, who had shared his heart with him, had not come near him. And why should he? Was not Tom’s first duty to his daughter and Billy? His daughter had been involved al- ready enough with this foreigner! That was how Tom must look at him in spite of all the devotion that they had, most truly, felt the one for the other. It was not possible, it might be, to have a real friendship between men of different nationalities. Their points of view must differ so deeply. And then Tom had his relicion. But it had seemed for a time as though he and Tom had had their hands upon the very souls of one another. Now, strangely, it was the thought of Tom Longstaffe and not of Maude that drove the sharpest agony into his spirit. It was dark now, but he did not care nor heed. He walked swiftly up and down the room thinking only of Tom, of their first meeting in the mist out- side the Cathedral, of the first real talk they had had when they had smashed through their shyness, of the day when they had walked up to the football match together, of the afternoon of Mary’s return, of fun with Billy, and of evenings alone in Tom’s study when they had said very little but had felt their love for one another like a tight wire holding them together. That had been friendship real enough and true enough while it lasted, but it had not lasted because Johanson had not been worthy of it, because he had been think- ing only of himself and of his ideas and wants and ambitions. What feeling had he really given to Tom, how much had he really con- sidered Tom’s work and Tom’s religious ideals and Tom’s love for his daughter? He sat down at the table again weighed down with self-reproach and loneliness. He was truly alone; nothing now remained— his ideals, his dream, his work, his love, his friendship, everything was gone for him. I do not know how long he sat on there in the dark, the rain always driving against the window and his only company, but at last the worst temptation of all came to him. He seemed to be no longer himself. An- other soul sat darkly in his body and to this soul came the thought of putting an end to everything. With that thought came a sense of great relief as of a crisis achieved and a question answered. He got up and lit two candles. Then he crossed to the old worn sofa that was against the wall, and under the sofa was his old shabby black bag. He dragged this out and, like a man who is moving in a dream, felt deep in it and, under shirts and collars, found an old revolver that he had had with him ever singe the old Stockholm days. He took it out and fingered it under the candlelight. There was one shot in it. He sat down at the table, drew the candles toward him, placed the revolver between them, and leaned his head on his hands, staring in front of him. He did not think any longer. He seemed to be already dead and the room smelt strangely empty. Several times he picked up the re- volver and looked at it and laid it down again. A slight movement was all that was needed. It seemed to him that he was sinking through ND Tom Longstaffe! the earth, and that when he reached a certain depth he would crash with a bump and that with that bump all would be over. H« WAS looking at the revolver so intently that he did not hear the opening of the door. Some one sat at the table beside him, but he did not look to see who it was. He and the stranger sat together without speaking. “Well, I’d better do it,” ing, to himself But the stranger put out his hand and took the revolver. The stranger was Tom Longstaffe. he whispered, sigh- IS first feeling was one of irritation and also of unreality and melodrama. Some one had come in and prevented him just as they always came in in plays and stories in what is called “the nick of time.” His next sensation was one of extreme weariness. He could just have laid his head on his arms there where he sat and droppe d off o, sleep. But at last he said: ‘Well, Ton “Well, Johnnie. I thought I’d come and see how you were getting along.” He had not put the revolver away, but had laid it on the table on the side of him away from Johanson. Johanson looked up and felt a sharp warm comfort at seeing Tom Longstaffe sitting there just as he used to be in his black coat and with his brown rough face and kindly wrinkled eyes. He was touched oddly by the rough brown hands with the stumpy fingers laid out there on the table. He was dragginz himself up, up, up from that deep place be neath the ground where he had been, and it took a long time. They were silent for a little, then Long- staffe said: “TI tell you what. Do you know what time it is? It’s supper time. I’m hungry. Have you got anything to eat?” That “I tell you what” was so like the old Tom that it pulled Johanson up a long way from under the ground. He was almost all the way up now. “T don’t know,” Johanson said slowly. “T hadn’t thought about eating.” “Well, I had,” Longstaffe said laughing, “and I’m hungry, I can tell you. I had a service at seven and I came straight down.” “Tf you’re hungry—” Johanson said, rising. He moved about the room at first blindly as though he did not know where he would go next. Longstaffe did not watch him, but went on talking, talking about anything. Little foolish nothings. What somebody had said about the weather, what the church looked like now there was the new reredos. Then he began about Billy and soon there was more than enough for him to say. Billy had done so many amusing things. Billy was like a piece of quicksilver, why do you know what Billy only the other day ‘ Slowly Johanson, stumbling about the room in the candlelight, came right to the surface. He did not hear what Longstaffe was saying, but it was comforting to hear his funny jumping voice again. Oh, yes it was! He realized the room now and knew what he must do. He must give Longstaffe some food. He laid the cloth on the tabie, got out the cheese and the bread and the butter, lit the fire and put the kettle on. He had a tinol corned beef. He opened it. Turning to Longstaffe he said: is it?” “‘Half-past nine.” Half-past nine! And he had been in that room ever since four o’clock “Tt’s a long time, Tom,” he said at last, ‘we haven’ t seen one another, I’ve missed our meeting. Longstaffe looked him directly in the eyes. “We thought you’d had enough trouble through knowing our family. We thought you'd be up to see us when you wanted to see us. I’ve waited and waited for you to come I couldn’t wait any longer.” “What time OHANSON said nothing to that. ™ kettle was boiling, so the tea was made and they sat down to the table. Johanson ate very little, but Longstaffe ate a great deal. He seemed truly hungry. He went on talking, too, gaily about the things he had been doing, the people he had been seeing, about Mary and Billy. Then, without warning, Johanson broke out: ; “Tom, if you shouldn’t have come to night. ... It’s been terrible. I’ve been seeing myself as I truly am. Yes, as I truly am. I have been thinking myself fine and honest, and I’m not, Tom, I’m bad—truly bad What have I been here but selfish and thinking only of my ways and what I should do here And I have been telling every one what ol should do. Canon Ronder, he’s been so good to me, and what did I do? I went to him telling him he was all wrong and I were all (Continued on page 122)

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122 COLORS BORN f SUNSHINE The Meadowbrook Girl® is cradled i in a merry age of smartness and sports. The world i is her oy soescntle One meets her every where —and everywhere one e iden-~ tifies her by that subtle free- dom of costume that defied all — until the world’ s smartest shops were inspired to coin her apt new title. To apprec iate such unique deference to the artistr y and race of Me adow brook sports ane made i in colorful, out~ ee ieee California, ies to see them at that smart Ave- nue shop, —or that little ane ys off the hotel foyer —an in the better stores everywhere. For awhile, even the ma-~ kers of Meadowbrooks in California were unaware that the name of “Meadowbrook? —with all its meanings of c olor and play time — had earned this flattering tribute, —that this chic er cha- 2eau, sO jaunt in its own : , j Y 1arm, was so essentially a part of her ensemble. These are the stores, remember, whose intimate knowledge of smartness in costumery has led them to give the name The Meadowbrook Girl? to America’s most bewitch- ingly d ressed type. California SPORTS HATS Town oll Country Simon Mitunery Co., Meadowbrook Building, 989 Market Street, San Francisco Eastern Sales Office, Louis Srrauss & SON, 39th Street at 6th Ave., New York HARMER Hugh Walpole’s HARPER’S BAZAR JOHN Novel (Continued from page 120) right. I don’t hope you know, Tom, but the things I’ve said to people. That Mrs. Bond, she isn’t much, but what right had I to tell her her boy was no good. She loves her boy, don’t she, same way as I love you, Tom? What should I do when some one comes and tells me you're no good? I’ve just been stuck up on myself and the fine things I’ll do for this town, and what’s it all come to? A foreigner knowing nothing—that’s what I am. I’m ashamed. I have no right. : “No,” said Tom quietly, lighting his pipe. “You were all right. You had an idea. You weren’t pushing your theories for yourself, but because of your idea. Your idea wouldn’t let you alone. And your idea is fine. Per- haps you’re a little simple yet, Johnnie. You came to this town thinking it was all Paradise and it wasn’t. No place on earth is. If any place on earth was, we'd all go to it, and we aren’t ready for Paradise just yet. And you're a little simple about people, too. They are more mixed than you think them, not bad altogether nor good altogether, but a bit of both. You’ve rushed in too quickly maybe, wanting to put everything right at once. But I don’t know. If you waited you’d lose the force of your idea perhaps and become just like the rest of us. It’s hard to say. I've been angry myself the way they’ve treated Mary, but why should I be? We all have to protect ourselves. We none of us are safe. Life’s dangerous all the time. And so we hit out at one another all the time, loving one another really maybe.” But Johanson would say no more. They sat opposite to one another, one on either side of the fireplace, and Tom talked. Johanson looked at him with an odd, hungry look, as though he could not have enough of his plain face and his wrinkled eyes. OM talked and talked. The fire died. The room was cold. He got up at last, knocking out his pipe. Johanson rose also, still not taking his eyes from Longst: uffe’s face. “‘Good-night, then,” he said. “It’s been kind of you coming. Holding his hand Longstaffe hesitated. His face flushed. He looked up to Johanson who towered above him. “T tell you what,” he said. “‘Do you know -if you don’t mind—lI’d like to stop here to-night.” “Stop here?” “Yes. Sleep here.” “But where will you sleep?” “On that sofa. It’s just the length. Have you got a blanket and a pair of Lrg oe wal 3 “Oh, yes. Of course.” hen Johanson added with a sigh, “Oh, I’d like you ito stop! “T’ll look funny in your pajamas!” They both laughed. ——— found the blanket. When Johé anson was almost undressed, Longstaffe said: ‘“‘Aren’t you going to do your exer ises? You always do, don’t you?” es, said Johanson, ey forgot.” Stripped, under the candlelight he did his exercises. Longstaffe, sitting on the sofa, his legs lost in Johanson’s pajamas, watched with eager admiration. say, you’re fitter than ever! I wish I could keep my pajamas and the Wonderful! Lord! body like that! Johanson paused, pleased. “Am [ truly all right still? Not fat?” “Fat! Ishould think not! Not an ounce of fat anywhere. Touch your toes again. Lord! That’ s something like!’ “Ever seen me do this?” Johanson raised himself on his toes, raised his arms, his body stiff as though of shining meti ul. ‘“Ican stay like that for ever so long.” The candles guttered, shadows. Soon Johanson was in bed and Longstaffe on his sofa, the room dark. “TI say, Tom,” Johanson’s voice came, “I was terrible lonely to-day. I’m glad you came. Oh, I’m glad you came!” “You won't be lonely any more, will you?” “No, I sha’n’t be.” Good-night, old man,” ‘“*Good-night, Tom.” throwing fantastic HAT agony of absolute loneliness was never to return to Johanson again. There was at least one human being in the world now who believed in him and loved him. But those hours changed him. Every one who saw him and spoke to him after that night is agreed that there was something new in him—if they cared for him, it was something more gentle and understanding, if they hated him, it was something more arrogant and aloof. He's playing the bloody aristocrat,” some one told Hogge. I imagine that what was to worry him now most urgently was the business of paying his way. He was almost penniless. He would in two months time have to find a very con- siderable sum of money. There were no prospects of any kind for him in Polchester, and leave Polchester he would not. Destiny, however, was to settle this ques- tion for him in its own fashion. Meanwhile the obsession of Seatown increased with him rather than diminished. Although he saw but few people and bared his soul at this time to no one but Tom Longstaffe, he must have been aware that the climax of his lecture distur- bance had raised questions far beyond his own personal fate. Many a Polcastrian had had fcr a long time an uneasy conscience about Seatown, and especially about one aspect of the question that I have not yet mentioned, DON’T know how many public houses there were in Seatown at this time, but I fancy that roughly one was provided for every thirty inhabitants of that district. At eight o'clock in the morning you would find the houses all crowded and at eleven at night out they would all tumble, crowds of the most wretched drink- sodden creatures this country could show. Here I may quote, perhaps, a more eloquent writer than myself: “In the streets you will see groups of the most utterly drink-degraded wretches it is possible to find anywhere in the kingdom. Men with soulless bloated faces and watery eyes, dressed like tramps, standing idle with their hands in their pockets. But there is not a penny there, or they would not be standing in the mud and rain; and as for doing any work, they are past that. Here that rare spectacle, a man without a shirt, has met my sight, not once nor twice but several times, the naked flesh showing through the rents of a ragged jacket buttoned or pinned up to the neck. These loathly objects are strangely incongruous at that spot, under those great towers, in sight of the green, open healthy downs. ; Under those great towers! incongruous indeed! Johanson did not find any of these “objects” loathly. His heart ached for them, and once seen by him they could not be forgotten for a moment. Always they hung there, a dark shifting tapestry, in the back of his mind. But what could he do? Unaided, hated as he now was, feared as he became, he could do nothing. Unaided, no. But as I have said he was aware that in the background other faces were now stirring. It was not for him, as for so many figures in popular romances or plays, to lead by up- lifted hand a fine movement of revolt. His hope was to wait, to hang on, to stay until, by constant reiteration of the Seatown scandal, he could force others to act with him. All his passionate desire now was that he should be able to stay in the place. He would hang on to that indifferent rock with all the force, spiritual and physical, that he had. It needed courage. It was not easy to move about the streets always under hostile eyes. He had outraged all the peaceful and law- abiding conventions of the town by the disturbance that he had made. The one desire of every one, save one or two, was that he should go. ‘Throw him out and forget him!” Even the tiny affair of the fountain was against him. What right had he to go med- dling about with our statues and works of art? Granted that the fountain was a pretty thing, why could he not have left it to some one else, some Polcastrian, to discover? Nevertheless no one interfered with it. Many people went to see it and in one week’s number of The Polcastrian News these three questions among others appeared in the “Do you know’ column. Yes, something Do you know That Seatown streets after eight o’clock at night are a scandal to which decent Polcas- trians are able to be blind no longer? That it is time some of our Church dignita- ries ceased to frequent tea-parties and em- ployed their valuable time among the poor of our city? That the recent discovery of a valuable work of art in our city is causing some of us to wonder what the Town Council are thinking about it and whether they’ve got some more of the same covered up with street rubbish which they are too lazy to clear away? Beautiful days came with the beginning of October. The fountain looked fine in the sun. HEN one morning Johanson’s landlady came and asked him whether he would mind finding other rooms. He was not sur- prised. He had been expecting this. But he was sorry for her nervousness. She was so anxious not to hurt his feelings. She wouldn't have bothered him for the world, but people were telling her that there might be some trouble in the house and she couldn’t have any trouble because of mother. She didn’t mind for herself, really she didn’t, but if there was any trouble and mother heard of it, it might finish her and then . . . She fingered her apron. Of course he would go. He would go (Continued on page 12.1)

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At the sight of her standing there in the doorway so quietly in her long black cloak, at the first glimpse of that kind and austere countenance, his conscience rebuked him that even in his loneliest moments he had fancied that he was without a friend. Hers had been the first hand that had touched his in that town and from the beginning until now she had been the same to him, loyal, honest, faithful. Not a week had passed since he had left her lodging but she had been to see him. He knew that ali men might revile and abuse him, but that she would not flinch from him. And yet, even in that first warm welcoming glimpse of her, he was aware that although she stood beside him, she also stood apart from him—and not only from him but also from every other human being in the world. She was, and had been for many a year, lonely as he could be but rarely and, although she per- plexed him in much, he understood this, that there was something in that odd English blood of hers that he would never understand. These English! Queer apart people! But even at their worst more honest than any others that he had ever known. another GHE came in quietly, as she always did, and sat down beside him. He had been strug- gling with his poor finances, striving as many another to make them better than they were, and he had in front of him a paper covered with figures. She settled herself comfortably and then leoking at him with that grave motherly look that he knew so well said: “‘How are you?”’ “Very well indeed.” “T’m glad of it,”’ she answered him. He wasn’t one to waste time when he was eager about anything and he began at once. ‘Tell me about Maude, please. Is she happy—with that young man? She told me afterwards that it was always the hardest thing for her when he began to speak of Maude. His eyes were so anxious and distressed and so childish urging her, as chil- dren do with their elders, to tell him some- thing good even though it were not true. And yet of course it was the truth that he wanted. “Happy? Is Maude ever happy? She doesn’t know what she wants and she never will. And she wants more than ever she’s going to get. All the ha’pence and none of the kicks.’ “But that fellow—he’s not good enough for her. He can’t make her happy. Perhaps I couldn’t of. But he can’t. I know he can’t. But she should be happy—she’d be so fine when she was happy. She needs happiness “What’s all this about happiness?” Mrs. Penethen said sharply. ‘There’s too much talk about happiness in this world it seems to me. Happiness! Happiness! Happiness! All of them wanting happiness! That’s what most of them are so unhappy for. Why, you don’t think it’s the first thing yourself.” “No, I don’t,” he answered slowly. for myself. But for her it should be.”’ “Well, it isn’t her I’ve come to talk about,’ Mrs. Penethen then answered firmly. “It’s something more important. I’ve come to ask you to go away. “Go away!” he repeated. “Yes,” she answered hurriedly, “‘I mean it. Oh! It’s for your own good I’m asking. You know what I think of you, you know how much I’d have done for you if I could have had my way. But just for a while, until things are quieter. It isn’t safe for you, truly not. I know what I’m saying.” “Not HE says that he drew away from her then as though she had become, 9 a moment, some one he couldn’t trust. T didn't think you’d want that,” he said at last. “You're my friend. Surely I thought so. I don’t hope you think I’ve done anything bad to run away about.’ “Run away! No,” she answered impa- tiently. ‘But for a time you can’t do any- thing more. They’ re angry about the lecture and things you’ve said, or if they’re not angry, all of them, it’s Hogge and some others who are telling them they ought to be. What do you know about how they feel here? What have you ever known since first you came here? Why, if I’d had any idea of what it was going to let you in for, your being in this town, and the way they would treat you, I’d have bundled you off that first wet night you came to my door. Indeed, it’s often enough I reproach myself for not having managed things better. But how was I to tell that all this would come of it, and all the more when everything went happily at first?” He must have seen then, I fancy, that some- thing very real and urgent disturbed her, driving her from her accustomed equanimity and that whatever her reason might be her only motive was her concern for himself. He smiled and took one of her hands in his. “What is it,” he asked, “that’s worrying you so badly? Are they meaning to shoot me or what?” ‘I can’t do other than beg you to go,” she answered. “I’m your oldest friend in this town, aren’t I now, and I’m old enough to be your mother and I’m fond of you as I’ve never been fond of a man since my poor husband died. There’s a thing for an old woman like me to say! But just because of that and be- cause I’ve always been honest with you from the beginning, you can believe me when | say that it’s right you should go. They mean to make you go whether you wish it or not. And only for a time, mind. I’m not saying for long. Just for a while, otherwise—oh, they'll be setting on you one of these nights, some of those Seatown roughs, and they’re a mad lot down there, especially when they’ve been drinking. Why should you mind to go? There’s no shame in it! “Ts this anything to do with Maude?” he asked her. ““Maude! No!” “Then I’m not going.” He got up and be- gan to walk the room. “Of course, I’m not going. Where should I go to? Do you think I don’t love this town, although they’ve been unfriendly just of late? And there’s Maude. Though she don’t love me any more I must see after her ra bit—in the background, don't you see? “Maude! Maude!” Mrs. Penethen broke in, “I’m sick of Maude although she is my own daughter. What's she got to do with this? Mind what I say. It’s serious. There are those working against you who've been against you from the first. Why give them the chance they’re wanting? Ah, go! Please go!” She stood in front of him, stopping him “Tf it’s money you’re needing—”’ she began. He put his arms around her and kissed her. Then he led her toward the door. “7 staying,” ” he said. “Yes, as long as I’m alive, I’m staying.” She saw something in his face that told her that all appeal was hopeless. Something, she said afterward, that was not himself but some- thing stronger than he. He was like a man doomed. All her way home she could think of nothing but that melodramatic phrase ‘‘a man doomed ’’—and then broke into that old irritation that she had known in connection with him from the very first. “He’s stupid. Stupider than any man should be.’ She sat all that evening worrying in her head at desperate schemes that would get him away from the town. But he was never to know that it was Maude who had been her chief informant, Maude who had urged her to go and see him, Maude who was sitting at that moment of her mother’s visit in the Boulte woods’ parlor thinking her fiancé a contemp- tible ass, longing to see once more that strange man with whom her life had been for a mo- ment connected, longing and hoping too most passionately that, for her safety and comfort, she would never set eyes on him again. But she was to set eyes on him. WO days after Mrs. Penethen’s visit to him, on a fine autumnal afternoon he walked up to the thick lane that runs above the villas over the top of the town high above Orange Street. This was a favorite walk of his. Above the lane with only a step or two you reached downland and from a high point there on a clear day you could discover the sea. Where the lane allowed gates to intercept its high hedges you had a splendid view, the green fields sloping to the town, and from the very heart of the roofs the Cathedral rising like a gigantic ship tugging at its moorings, seeking to float away into the sea of sky. Seen from here the town was the town that he loved, all beauty and peace. It did not seem so difficult when he saw it thus to recover his old first vision of it and some of his old faith in it. And when the world was so still about him, only faint stirrings in the hedge- rows, the distant roll of some cart, the cry of a child from a near-by farm, he seemed to him- self to be approaching that moment when, if only he had sufficiently rid himself of his own desires and his own fears and if only the world outside were quiet enough, he would catch that whisper that would explain every- thing. ; , , From his earliest childhood he ha id hae some expectation of the kind so that as 4 little boy he would drag at his mother s 5 head in the street and force her to pause and then, hearing only the noise of the traffic in his ears, would move impatiently forward again. Lately in all the trouble of his — ul life the possibility of that whisper. had seemed irretrievably remote; for many a mo th he had not dreamed his old dream. But now again after that terrible day in his room W hen Longstaffe had come he had recover his earlier self-possession. (Continued on page 126)

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PERSONAL EXPRESSED: The woman who drives a Chrysler “70” instinctively knows herself becomingly equipped. For the fit of her car—its suitability to her personal needs and its adapt- ability to her temperament—is quite as important as the perfection of her personal apparel. And unless her car be worn with the same ease, the same careless grace, it is as irritating as a dis- appointing hat. In its ability to suit the needs of the discriminating woman rests much of the popularity which the Chrys- ler “70” enjoys among members of the Junior League, the Garden Club, TA: d-F-2 [_* | THE | the Needlecraft Guild of America— and discerning women wheresoever. There is, first of all, a series of exqui- site silhouettes and a variety of the newer colorings which are both dis- tinctively smart and distinctively Chrysler. A woman handles her Chrysler, also, with the unconscious poise which attaches toa gown by Paquin or a frock by Lanvin. She is conscious, too, of a fine re- sponse to her wishes—flashing ac- celeration, a wealth of power for speed or pull, amazing flexibility— and the comforting safety assur- ance of Chrysler hydraulic four- wheel brakes. i \ | \ \ Rerié.mnes eo ¥\ \ PERSONAL: Chrysler “*70’’ Sedan, $1695 f o. b. Detroit And because she is a woman, she doubly senses the luxury of joltless motion provided by the Chrysler designed springs, balloon tires and Watson Stabilators. The Chrysler ““70” is made mechan- ically superfine not alone to enthuse the motor-wise man, but more par- ticularly to relieve those who know nothing of machinery from all me- chanical drudgery. Ask the women you most admire how they like their Chrysler “*70.” And become acquainted by per- sonal experience with the Chrysler “70.” You will find the nearest dealer eager to demonstrate both its unusual ability and its charm. Chrysler “58”, “70” and Imperial “80” models priced from $845 to $3605 f. o. b. Detroit. Nineteen body styles CHRYSLER “oS CA EK: on wee ‘“\A/ND: CHARM: ARE

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DEL MONTE-HICKEY Alwavs the unusual ...This coat in Silk Faille—with dis- tinctive new Fur, is one of the many Del Monte- Hickey suggestions for the smart Summer wardrobe. cAt your favorite shop. DEL MONTE-HICKEY 246 WEST 38TH STREET, NEW YORK \ HARMER Hugh Walpole’s HARPER’S BAZAR JOHN Novel (Continued from page 124) He was at peace as he had not been since the first days of his engagement to Maude. So he was walking along the lane, rejoicing in the crystal stillness of the air. Then, look- ing up, he saw Maude Penethen walking slowly, quite alone, in front of him. What the surprise of that must have been! It might seem that it would be impossible to be for so long in the same small town and not to meet, but it was true, nevertheless, that he had not seen her since that day at her mother’s house when he had had that last interview with her. He could not believe now that this was she, but he knew the blue coat and the hat with the blue feather, and then every movement told him. There was something in her walk that seemed dejected and lonely and went straight to his heart. H® did not know what todo. Hestood still, staring. Only they two alone in all the world! Should he turn back? No, he was not strong enough for that. The sight of her, al- though it was only her back that he saw, made him so hungry for the sound of her voice and the light in her eyes that he could no more leave her than the castaway could escape from the ship that is in sight to save him. But perhaps she would think that he had followed her and was to take advantage now of her loneliness. He could not think clearly though. His heart was hammering, his eyes were clouded. Another moment and he had said in a voice strangled by his feeling: ‘Maude, Maude. Please I must speak with you. He knew, at the moment that she turned round and realized him, how completely and utterly he had lost her. She was terrified se other word for it. Terrified as though he had been some tramp who, alone there far from any possibility of human assistance, would offer her violence. And whether it was of him or of her love for him that she was terrified, no one will ever know. Certainly Maude Penethen, or rather Mrs. Boultewood of Ivanhoe Villa, will never say. I suppose that, during all those months, she had been thinking of him unceasingly and as the reports of his various misdemeanors reached her ears, sae must have been in a trange confusion of thanking her stars that she was not married to him and longing for his embraces. When she saw him she looked desperately about her and then said: “Don’t. Don’t. I don’t want to speak to you.” “We must speak,” he answered gravely, recoveriag his self-control. “It isn’t right that we shouldn’t. I sha’n’t hurt you or say anything wrong. You know I’ve never hurt you, have I? I only want your happiness— no one wants it so much as me. He did not even touch her hand, as she was very careful afterwards to tell her mother. It was surprising how quickly they fell into their old way, talking quietly, he asking her questions and she giving him answers that, at least if they were not true, were what she wanted him to believe. His one eager desire was not to frighten her and for a while he did not ‘Maude, allow me just for these minutes to think that I have a right to ask you about yourself. Are you happy and comfortable?” “Of course I'm happy and comfortable,” she answered him. “Why shouldn’t I be? That in the old sharp way. Then more softly: ‘I’m glad we've met after all, this way, because there’s something I’ve always been wanting to tell you. I didn’t treat you rightly when you were with us. I didn’t, indeed. I was just hateful. But you weren’t like any one I’d ever seen before, and perhaps if we'd married at once and gone away out of this place ... But I don’t know—” She looked at him then almost appealingly as she went on, and how, for the next days, he was to remem- ber the look ‘I'm not much of a girl. I’m not truly. You're lucky to be rid of me. I’ve been spoilt. That’s what it is, | expect. And I don’t want to change either. You’re the only one who could have changed me, but I'd have fought you for trying to. We'd never be happy together. And there’s another thing. You made me think of all sorts of ideas I didn’t want to think of. You wouldn’t leave me alone, would you? You said you wanted us both to be free, but you wouldn’t be con- tented until I did and thought what you wanted me to.” That was penetré iting of her. “It might be I'd have learnt, too,’ he answered her. ve learnt something since I came away from you, Maude. Oh! I’ve wanted you so. You don’t know how I’ve wanted you.” HE temptation then to take her in his arms was terrible. He had to stop where he was and think of her. If he thought of her enough, her helplessness and easily roused fear of him, the temptation weake ned, but if he saw her only in a mist of all his longing - e stood, gazing over the break in the hedge, and the grcen of the sloping field swung up to the blue autumn sky and the thin vej of smoke above the town enveloped him in jts spidery haze. She stood quietly beside him. It might have been his moment. Who can tell? He conquered it and walked on, not looking at her. ““Let’s not talk of the past,” he said. “] was wrong, but I was very ignorant. You were the first woman I’d ever loved and you shall be the last. Also it isn’t easy for a foreigner to love an Englishwoman. You mistook sometimes the things I said, and I was eager to have you always, and I was jealous -” She felt, I think, that she had just escaped a great dé anger and she began hurriedly: “And now aren’t you going to leave Polchester for a while? I know you haven’t meant any thing by what you’ve done here, but what you say is true. I expect that you are a foreigner and don’t understand the way people feel here. English people are funny. They don’t want to be told what they ought to do. They’re angry with you, some of them. Won’t you go away for a little until it’s all quiet again?” He shook his head smiling. ‘‘No, I won't go away. Don’t you see why I can’t ? Don’t you see that the two things in the world I love, the two things I think the — beauti- ful, are here, Polchester and you. I don’t hope you think I’ m rude to say that to you when you're engaged to be married now to another man, but I don’t mean it in any way that can offend you. I know, of course, that it’s better for us not to see one another. I sha'n’t try to meet you. Indeed, I sha’n’t. But the time may be when you’d want a bit of help. I don’t,” he went on laughing, ‘‘seem just now anybody to help another very much, but it sha’n’t always be. I have friends here and I am young and strong. You may want me one day, and it would be terrible that I wasn’ here. And then I can’t leave Polchester. It isn’t what I think when I first came here, but perhaps it’s something better. No, I can't go away, Maude, —_ you very much.” Once more he had , 1 believe, a chance What could she think, contrasting that oaf Boultewood with the man beside her? If she was happy, what was she doing walking all alone up there by herself that day, she who hated to be alone? But it was well for him that she didn’t give him his chance. There was a better destiny waiting for him than anything that Maude could offer him. She continued to try to persuade him to go, but felt as her mother had felt before her that there was some stronger resistance there than she could conquer. They had come to the point where the broad road up from Polchester met the lane. He stopped in front of her, looking at her as though it would be the last time that he would ever see her. ‘Remember then,” he said, “that though you can’t love me, you're the only love of my heart. There won’t be ever another. All that’s good in me, Maude, is yours. If it may be one day you're lonely or unhappy it shall be perhaps a comfort to think that there’s some one who loves you and can’t ever change. It’s a happiness to me that I've been able to say to you. If all the world comes to tell you that I’ve gone away and left you, it won't be true. But I don’t want anything of you, Maude. I don’t want anything of any man, and I think that’s surely the way to be happy. Don’t you think of me, if you think at all, as unhappy. I’ve had my unhappy times, but I’m a happy man. And I'll be happy serving you, even though you don’t know I’m doing it.” She was frightened then. Something in his look, in the way he held himself, brought back her old fear. She told her mother: “He didn’t look human, somehow. The_ thing thi at’s foreign in him came out and frightened me.” She expected perhaps that he would kiss her, but he didn’t move even to touch her hand. She nodded, tried to smile in an easy fi ishion, then started quickly down the hill He stayed there looking after her. I BELIEVE that that meeting with Maude raised him to the height of all imaginable happiness. It may seem strange that it coul be so, but it restored to him, I fancy, the one possession whose loss it had been hardest for him to bear—his right to care for her. He had, for months, lost all touch with her; now, al- though he might not see her, he would know that she was conscious of him, that she knew that he was there and that if "unhi ppl trouble came to her it would be to th him that she would turn. He was now as happy as he had been in his first Polchester days. He rushed in at once to tell Longstaffe all about it. He gave fim the minutest account of his meeting with her, every detail. He was filled to the brim with new plans. What was he going to do? W ell, the next thing was that he intended to live down there in the very heart of Seatown. Yes (Continued on page 128)

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This Primrose House Beauty Box Appeals Especially to the Traveler An enchanting assortment of eleven Primrose House preparations in full sizes. The ample metal box is of antique yellow lined in lacquer red. The cover is heavy black water- proof mohair, with leather handle. At your favorite store or sent postpaid on receipt of price. 127 May we suggest the following PRIMROSE HOUSE preparations for these very definite needs of the WELL-GROOMED WOMAN? TO CLEANSE AND REFINE THE SKIN A really clear skin—not one superficially washed with soap and water but scrupulously freed from all impuri- ties—is the beginning of beauty. Rose Leaf Cleansing Cream removes all impurities, cleanses the pores and leaves the skin exquisitely smooth and fresh. Four sizes, $1.00, $2.00, $3.50, $6.00. TO NOURISH A SENSITIVE DRY SKIN Smoothskin Cream was especially perfected for this purpose. Smoothed gently over the an and neck, it gives a petal-smooth texture and softness to the skin, especially if it is inclined to be dry. Four sizes, $1.00, , $2.00, $3.00, $8.00. IF THE SKIN IS OILY This condition often causes clogged pores and black- heads. Primrose House Bleach Cream is remark- ably effective in toning and clearing the skin. It is also excellent for discolorations, freckles and brown spots on the face, neck and hands. Two sizes, $2.00, $3.50. Oftentimes women complain of their difficulty in making powder adhere to the nose and skin of the face because of conditions of oiliness. These difficulties are solved by Petal Bloom, a dainty lotion to be used under powder andasa protection tothe skin. Fourshades, cream white, natural, light brunette, dark brunette, $1.50. Balsam T issue Stimulant—This stimulating oil sinks freely into the pores and builds up the impover- ished tissues which often cause lines and wrinkles. Two sizes, $1.50, $2.75. ONE ROUGE FOR CHEEK AND LIPS Pomegranate Cream Rouge serves this double purpose. It gives an entirely natural bloom and relieves dryness and chapping. In two shades, light and dark. Two sizes, pocket size, $1.25; Boudoir size, $2.50. Chiffon Face Powder, delicately perfumed, light and clinging as the down ona butterfly’s wing. In two shades, flesh and brunette, $3.50. These and other Primrose House Prepara- tions with complete directions for their use may be had at your favorite store or will be mailed postpaid from Primrose House on receipt of price. ¥ PRIMROSE HOUSE Preparations % that Many a Smart New York Woman Carries with Her on Her Travels ‘But you can get Primrose House prep- beauty salon everywhere. Ask for them arations in all the best shops every- in the best shop in your city. where!” we expostulated to the charming ae New York matron who, in preparing for But if it does happen that they are a trip, wanted this and that and this again. difficult to find in your locality, always 6 remember that Primrose House will be glad to supply your needs direct. “TI want to be sure!” the lady insisted. “c 3 ° ° si — Can I get them in Europe? a There is no reason why you should another lady. Yes, she can get them in j6¢ benefit from these methods of caring ‘ Paris. for and enhancing beauty that have been K It is true that you can get these prep- so completely successful in Primrose arations from New York's most exclusive House itself. Write for Booklet This is a very wise and informative little booklet describing Primrose House methods of caring for and beautifying the skin, the hands and the hair. It is justifiably entitled, ‘‘Here Dwells Youth.’’ We shall be delighted to mail you acomplimentary copy upon request. rvimrode House “3 SEAaST52™ST. New Yorn, = Department B-§ Reg. U.S. Pat. OF Sold

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For beach and country wear, Beaucraft suggests the Rendex- vous, a delightfully smart two piece dress of Crepe Biarritz, | hand blocked in an original design and rich in color tones. William Bloom & Co. Incorporated 136 Madison Avenue, New York Beaucralt FOR TOWN, COUNTRY CLUB, STEAMER AND RESTAURANT HARMER Hugh Walpole’s HARPER’ JOHN Novel BAZ. (Continued from page 126) he did. That was the only way to do any- thing. He wasn’t going to missionize them or improve their minds or anything of the sort. He was going to know them and they were going to know him. He thought he could earn enough teaching a few some exer- cises, a little boxing maybe. Or he would make things. He was quick with his hands and could make a wooden box as well as any one. It wouldn’t cost him much to live down there—that was one certain thing. I think that it was then for the first time that Tom Longstaffe became _ seriously alarmed. In spite of everything that had happened, Johanson seemed to have no true realization of the way that those men hated him. If Seatown had become an obsession to him, he had certainly become an obsession to them, and it was that most dangerous of emotions, ignorant crowd hatred, fanned by Hogge or another to a sort of fanaticism. Johanson was “the bloody foreigner’ to them and they “were going to bleeding well chuck him out ’—and here was he planning happily to live in their midst. Longstaffe tried to show him some of this, but he didn’t care that day. He had seen Maude again, he was to be allowed to look after her, he was to begin his work again, honestly now in the way that he wanted it. He was lonely no longer, workless no longer, homeless no longer. Then his dream came back to him again. NE night, physically tired out with a walk that he had taken all day with Longstaffe across the downs toward the sea, he fell at once on tumbling into bed into heavy sleep. He had poured everything out to Long- staffe, telling him many things for which this narrative is the richer. They had been, both of them, so happy together that there had come a moment, when, standing on a shoulder of the moor and looking out to the thin purple scarf of the sea, it had seemed to them possible to go on and never to come back. A moment’s dazzling illusion of eternal happiness, swinging through air into space, with no duty, no foreboding, no regret to burden them. Then, laughing, they had turned back. It was, in many ways, the happiest and fullest day of their lives. Long stafie at least was never to know such a day again. And now, closing happily his eyes, he swung at once into the place from which for so many months he had been excluded. For it was like that, as though he were returning to his own place after a long absence abroad. He was walking up the long, smooth path. A cool pale light was in the air. The white house stood open and waiting for him. The flowers, the trees, the stream that tumbled over the stones between the lawns all greeted him without wonder or surprise, but with an infinite quiet pleasure He moved with an incredible freedom and ease. The house, when he reached it, was shining with light. It was empty of every thing and yet strangely filled. There again were the gleaming stairs and beyond them the long, still gallery. Looking out from a window of the gallery he smiled with joy when he saw once more the line of plum-colored hills, the dark texture of the streets framing them, the sun sparkling behind the ger when he heard the singing of the birds and coming up to him from below, the chatter of the stream. Oh! but he was glad to see it again! He was home now. He could rest and think and listen. And soon—he knew it as though he had been informed of it—a message would come to him there. He would be told what to do. His part was to wait there listening for the message Next morning he woke to find the sun pouring into his room. While dressing he discovered this written on a grubby piece of paper and pushed under his door If you don’t leave this town soon you will be thrown out. He smiled at that. He felt strong enough to-day for anything HE SPENT the morning writing part of a fairy-story for Billy. He couldn’t write English. But that didn’t matter. It was plain enough for the child to understand, just as though he were talking. This thing had begun a long while ago. He had told Billy stories when they were out walking together and he had discovered, very much to his own surprise, that he was crammed with stories. He didn’t know where they came from. Perhaps his mother had told them to him or told him pieces and he himself had added the rest. There was no end to them and Johanson was as deeply excited by them as was Billy. Then Billy wanted an old one over again and Johanson couldn’t remember, so there came the order that they must be written down. That was what Johanson was now laboriously doing. He was in the middle of the best one, ‘The King’s Daughter and the Humpbacked Prince.” After his frugal midday meal he thought, because it was so lovely a day, that he would go and see whether Tom or Billy or Mary would come for a walk. . The whole town was glittering with light as in one of his own fairy-stories. Coming up to the house he saw Billy on the lawn trying to stand on his head. He could manage it almost, he cried to Johanson, tell- ing him to stop and watch, if his legs wouldn't be so wobbly. He commanded Johanson to hold his legs; then everything was fine. He could see the tree all upside down and the smoke from the chimney was like a flag. Then he began to choke and Johanson turned him over Tom Longstaffe came out onto the lawn. “Mary and Billy were going up to Par minter’s Field,” he said. ‘“W hy not go up with them?”’ Parminter’s Field is a famous spot in our country because from there you can have one of the finest views in all Glebe shire. “Thad come to ask fora walk,” Johanson answered, picking Billy up and holding him in the air with one straightened arm. And that was the way that Longstaffe would always afterwards see him, his legs stiff, his head thrown back, he laughing and the sun broken into fragments by the dark trees circling round him. ‘ Mary came out, and the three started off By the gate Joh inson turned back. “*Good-by, Tom,”’ he cried. Good-by.” “See you soon.” “Come in to-morrow evening and we'll have a talk.” “Ves, I will.” Longstaffe stood there looking after them He had a funny impulse, he told me after wards, to call Johanson back for a moment He had something . . . No, he had not .. . He went back, reluctantly, into his study. He sat there for a long time staring over his pipe at the thought of his friend. HEY went gaily up the hill. The day was so beautiful that everyone was happy. A little nondescript dog who had no home and no family, looking about for something excit ing to do, went with them. He was a funny little dog with a head too large for his body, and although during the short span of his days he had had nothing but kicks and abuse, nevertheless he was still confident in life and expected it at any moment to do him some wonderful turn. Johanson was always very much at his ease with Mary. She was so quiet and so sensible that he could tell her everything. The y never reached a greater intimacy than that, and they never would, perhaps, because she was so sensible. The one passionate experience of her life was behind her and she would never have another. Even her love for her child was not passionate. She was writing a book, she told Johanson, a book about certain famous women, Mary Wollstonecraft, Harriet Martineau, Emily Bronté, and some others That was the first of that series of works by which afterwards she made her name From Parminter’s Field on such a day as this you could draw within your arms a vast sweep of hill and valley, black bunches of wood, isolated farms gleaming white through their trees, streams of silver thread and, best of all, the slow, rounded shoulders of the downs. Polchester flamed beneath the sun, windows —" like eyes, the Pol rounding it in, and the Cathedral crowning it. They threw themselves down upon the warm, dry turf and the small dog growled like a kettle and rushed at imaginary enemies and then, abandoning himself, flung himself down against the warm hollow of Johanson’s thigh and lay there panting, his tongue out, his shaggy eyes sparkling with pleasure. Now was the time for the story to be con tinued. No other thing would keep Billy still Johanson turned over, lying full length on his stomach, his head propped between his han ids, staring at the vast curtain of sky and seeing, over the brow of the moor, the Polchester roofs, the Cathedral crouched like a man, and the rising fields ““When the dwarf came to the woo: it was nearly dark. He couldn't see very clearly be cause, as you may remember, he had only one eye, and he wasn’t brave either. ‘I don’t hope you think I’m frightened,’ he called out just to comfort himself. Somebody laughed. He couldn’t see nobody, although he turned to the left and the right and every way, but somebody was laughing—”’ “T know,” shouted Billy, too badly ex« to be silent. “It was the woodcutt di 1ughte r. “Hush, Billy,’ spoil the story. ‘It were not the woodcutter’s daught said Johanson. ‘He looked everywhere a! (Continued on pace 1 30) ed r’s said Mary. ‘You mustnt to

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for UAY 1926 THE D’ ORSAY, OLD STYLE, FROM A DESIGN BY BREWSTER, NOW IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART In tHE days when New York first assumed, consciously, the artistic leader- ship of the nation, James Brewster built its finest carriages as Duncan Phyfe its finest furniture. Indeed, as early as 1810, there began the tradition that the carriage from *‘ Brewster’s’’ was not alone the smartest attainable, but that it combined the refinement of cabinet work with the staunchness of ship’s carpentry. Wherever “‘carriage company”’ rode thereafter, the Brew- ster vehicle was the accepted symbol of social position. The ‘‘elegant car- riage’’ built for President Jackson in 1829 . . . swagger, clipping dog carts driven by the young bloods of the eighties . . . leisurely, gracious landau canopy top sociable, all maintained the tradition of excellence incar- nate in Brewster designed and built automobile coach work of today. There could be no more significant tribute to this leadership than the fact that Rolls- Royce has acquired Brewster, thus uniting superlative coach work with the ‘best car in the world.’’ The illustration shows a Sport Double Enclosed Drive Limousine by Rolls-Royce and Brewster. Rolls-Royce/Brewster, Fifth Avenue at 56th Street, New York. Also at all Rolls-Royce Branches. 129 BREWSTER YF

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HARMER Hugh Walpole’s HARPER’S BAZAR JOHN Novel (Continued from page 128) him and he said out loud, ‘Who's that laughing?’ “*Wouldn’t you like to know?’ said a voice above him, and looking up he knew that some one was in the tree, but yet he could not see who that somebody was. And then—right at his feet—something dropped and he could see, although it was almost dark, that it was a beautiful pearl, the loveliest and the roundest pearl any one had ever seen, all white and shining. “Pick it up,’ said the voice, and although he had the rheumatism very badly he bent own to pick it up, and when he had it in his hand it was just an ugly bit of nasty coal. Then he was so angry he stamped with his foot in his rage and the voice laughed again and said: ‘If you’re as angry as that you'll never find the golden key,’ which was what he had come into the wood to discover, you shall remember. ‘I’m just wasting my time,’ he said, and he was going off when another beautiful pearl fell at his feet. He was so greedy that although he had the rheumatism and was in a hurry to be gone he had to stoop down and pick it up. But when that was in his hand that was a piece of coal too, and this time he was so angry that he took off his fine red cap and threw it on the ground and stamped on it. “*Vou’ll never find the golden key if you get so angry,’ said the voice again—”’ ND so the story went on. No movement in all the world. They must have seemed like painted figures there against the rim of the moor and the great scoop of blue sky from whose texture the color slowly drained, leaving it even paler as though to prepare for the ardent glories of the sunset. “There, then that’s enough,” Johanson said. “The story’s finished for to-day.” “Oh, no,” Billy cried. ‘It isn’t finished I want—” But Johanson didn’t answer. It seemed to Mary Longstaffe that he had been gradually losing knowledge of what he was saying. The words had tumbled from him drowsily almost as though he were falling asleep, and yet his eyes were wide open and staring. Billy asked no more, but playel with the dog who had waked and was biting at any- thing he could see. “Mary,” he said, not turning to her but still staring before him (she said afterwards that his whole body as he lay there had the tenseness of expectation so that she herself looked out to the horizon wondering what it was that he saw), “isn’t it a funny thing that I shall have been here in this place all this time and done nothing except put together a little broken bit of carving?” “You don’t know what you may have done,”’ Mary answered sententiously. (I can hear her saying it. Mary was always a little sententious.) “‘Nobody knows the result of their own work. You may have influenced many more people than you know. You have, I’m sure.” He did not seem to have heard her. “It’s an odd thing,” he said. ‘‘To-day I’m right back to when I were a boy. There seems to be no time between. I come clattering up the stairs, you know, and I look out of the window half-way up the stairs and there’s all the roofs covered with snow and a blue star shining and I say with a thump of the heart, ‘It’s beauti- ful,’ and I’m sad because it’s beautiful. And [ run a bit up the stairs and then run back to see it once more in case the star should be away. But there it still is and it’s like as though I take it in my pocket and keep it there. “And then I run up-stairs and there’s father washing his head because he’s been drinking too much and mother’s crying and for the first time I’m not afraid of him. For the first time, yes, because of the star in my pocket. . ! “Strange! Strange! I have it all round me here—the clock with the face of the moon and the old picture of the skating in the snow and the cage with the yellow canary — and father splashing the water about the floor looking through the towel like a beast at me Mary, what does life mean? What is driving us forever to do other than we want, never to be easy and quiet?” “God is driving us,”’ she answered. “God! God!” he replied. “This word! It is so easy and it means nothing. But Beauty! That’s a word now that means something an<| I know to-day that I’ve come at last to the way to have beauty, to touch it as I touched that star. “To-day I want nothing for myself and | fear nothing for myself. 1 have lost myself 1 am empty of myself. Always before I wanted something for me. Me, Hjalmar Johanson. But now I will begin to love beauty away from myself and to make things for others. And perhaps after all this beauty is the same as your God, Mary. I know it is the same as love. It is part of the woman I love and the place I love and the work I love. But it isn’t for me any more. It’s for some- thing greater than myself. I can die to-night and it goes on. I go on, we all go on forever and all things are more beautiful and More beautiful until at last all is beauty.” ie WAS something like this that he talked and I suspect, although she never con. fessed it, that to Mary it all seemed very childish. She had read so much and had g good a brain that Johanson was always to her like an ignorant uneducated boy. She didn’t like him the less for that, but she liked him for other qualities, his loyalty, courage, honesty not for his intellect. a [ suspect, too, although this also she never admitted, that she gave him then a nice concise pocket philosophy of her ideas about life (the sort of things that wise men publish How to Live Wisely in fifty pages of neat tidy print), but I don’t imagine that he lis. tened to her. He liked her too for all sorts of things, for her honesty, courage, and loyalty but not for her intellect. , a But she remembers that he said at last: I’m so happy to-day, happier than ever before. I have people to love and work to do and I fear nothing, I want nothing. How lovely the world is and how quiet and how still! Just the time to listen for a message from somewhere. I can feel the earth under me and the sky above me and my body’s fit and my brain’s clear. I’m hungry and thirsty, the sky’s full of color, the trees are turning brown, [ hate no one. I have friends and a woman I love . . . I'll build a town one day, Mary, that shall be the most beautiful town ever seen with white towers and streets of fine stone, fountains and a great hall, gardens of every flower and woods to shelter when it’s hot and squares for processions and every man shall have his own place free for himself and work that he may enjoy and time to see beautiful things and no one shall be afraid of anything and there shall be the finest bands playing you ever heard!” But it was turning chilly and Mary was afraid lest Billy should catch a cold. So she got up and brushed the soil from her dress and said she thought they must be going. Johanson wanted to stay a while so, Billy waving his hand a great many times, they left him. Only the little dog for some mysterious reason stayed with Johanson. He remained there a long time. I hope that he had a magnificent sunset. No one = remember what the sunset was like that day. E CAME down into the town in the dusk with the little dog at his heels. Several people saw him—young Walter Pearce, Aaron Sharpe, Mildmay. Mildmay, who had too genial a digestion and, as auctioneer, too general a profession to quarrel with anybody, spoke to him. “Why, Mr. Johanson,” he said. ‘ You look as though some one had left you a fortune.” Johanson, laughing, answered him some- thing and swung on. It must have been nearly dark when he reached his lodging. Running up-stairs he was met outside his door by his landlady. “Mr. Johanson,” she said, agitated as usual, “the boy would wait.” She too noticed and afterwards recorded that “‘he looked as happy as anything.” “Boy! What boy?” he asked. ‘The one that’s been here before. He’s in your room and brought ’is dog with ‘im too. Johanson knew then that it must be Husky, and sure enough it was he, standing in the dusk holding on to his mongrel. He smiled his confiding smile and explaine* that he had come there because of his aunt— “she was terrible bad and wouldn't see no one but Mr. Johnson.” This old woman, 4 drunken old thief and responsible at an earlier time for the most villainous disorderly house in Polchester, had been from the first one ol Johanson’s fiercest opponents. Husky lived sometimes with her, sometimes with a sick mother, and sometimes with himself, but his old aunt colored his conversation more than any other human. She was the only creature alive whom he feared and apparently because he feared cared for in a sort of way. It was perhaps admiration rather than affection. She was the wickedest, filthiest, hardest-swearing member of his circle and so stood for some- thing. OHANSON must have doubted when he heard that she wanted him. It wasnt m him to suspect tricks or plots, but he must have doubted. But Husky wouldn’t lead him into trouble. Then Husky advised him not to go. He had told his aunt that he would de- liver the message and now, having delivered it, in his queer broken voice, he gave It as his opinion that he’d better go back and just tell his aunt that he couldn’t find Mr. Johnson. Why, Johanson asked him, wasnt his aunt really ‘ill? Oh, yes, she was terrible bad. Dying, the doctor said. And she had a sort of idea that Mr. Johnson could keep her alive. (Continued on page 132

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night rever more Suppose Cellini walked into your home today ,7 PF OY VES HAT mighty spirit swept across Europe in the Fifteenth Century which touched even the minor artists with its glory? For one thousand years the genius that was the art of Greece and Rome remained unused; magnifi- Pros. f cences that failed to spur the world to new and original endeavor. tblish . | i Suddenly something happened. There arrived in one short span of time a Dante to scale new heights in literature; a Raphael, a Donatello, a Della Robbia and a Michael Angelo to stir the world to its depths over their mighty paintings and sculptures and architectural achievements. Then came Cellini, the master silversmith, the worker of wonders in gold, silver and precious jewels. This was the period that has meant more to succeeding ages than any other. “Make the work beautiful no matter what its form may be,” was the spirit of phe. Ry the glorious Renaissance. still! - i And from the Spanish interpretation in Florida and California to the newer from B architecture of New York; from the authentic copies in furnishings to the pom B “Renaissance” silver lovingly made by Wallace, that great period is alive today Y as it was when it burst into flower centuries ago. Any fine jeweler will be glad to show you the modern wonder in silver art: the Renaissance pattern in Wallace Sterling Silver. neat é lis- rts of alty, SSSA last ° ever re thes EET ONZE 0) FAs VE (GN OVAE

thing z you ' Was o she s and Billy 4 left ‘rious

hope » one that dusk veral aron stion on to 1 look —> = une.” oa ea 2% thy WA early { te a ining % P ee ‘ TO y his isual, 1 and appy Allow the yamous Social Secretary to aid you Miss Beningfield was with Mrs. Cornelius Van- derbilt, Lady Moog Astor and other freqianes women of the social world. She will be glad to answer personally, questions concerning proper table etiquette. Address her care R. Wallace & Sons Mfg. Co., Wallingford, Conn. he Renaissance tomato server is $8.00, tea- Shoons are $25.00 the dozen, and the 121 piece set, mahogany chest, is $452. 1 him 10t to ] d de / vered / . : \ ; ‘ it as \ nN 7 Le HAE , ad N | (REBIING STLVER nson LA i sir d eae y re i | aunt bad 1 sort alive.

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At least that was her opinion. But she was sick all right. Terrible sick. Johanson must have been reluctant to go. He had had so good a day and he wanted to sit in his room and think about it. At least that’s apparently what he said to Husky, that he wanted to stay in his room and think about something. That stuck in Husky’s mind be- cause it seemed to him so very odd a thing for any one to want to do. He never wanted to stop and think about anything. However, Husky was relieved. He didn’t mind his old aunt dying and he had his own private ‘reasons for thinking it better that his friend Mr. John- son shouldn’t go down there to-night. So he jerked the piece of string that attached the mongrel to his person and prepared to depart. Then Johanson changed his mind. No, he would go. If the old woman were really ill and asked for him he must go. Did she die and he not go he would reproach himself. In an hour he would be back. A funny mood then invaded young Husky. He didn’t want his friend to go. ‘There were a lot down there who might do Mr. Johnson some damage. They had been talking about it for weeks. He could go down in the morn- ing. After all, his aunt might not die to- night. She had been ill for days and nights. This was just a fancy she’d taken into her head to see Mr. Johnson. He’d just go back and tell her that Mr. Johnson had been out and he’d left a message. But now Johanson had made up his mind. He was going and that was all there was about it. He saw perhaps a change of mind in the Seatown populace. If this old creature turned to him, who also might not turn? Husky kicked the dog to ease his feelings a little and led the way down the stairs. ROM the moment of his leaving his rooms to the witness of Rufus the doctor, nothing is very clear. Something happened on the way down because Johanson didn’t reach the foul apartment of Husky’s aunt until nearly eight o’clock. That is, they took close upon an hour to go from Johanson’s rooms to the further end of Seatown. Husky can explain very little. He said that Mr. Johnson stopped to speak to somebody and that he couldn't see “what the bloke was.” I believe that somebody—Romilly, perhaps did his utmost to prevent Johanson from going on. I have tried in every way possible to discover who that somebody was, but at this distance of time accuracy is difficult. Longstaffe, Ronder, Mrs. Penethen, Mary, Miss Midgeley, even Maude Boultewood, have an astonishingly clear picture of all their con- tacts with him, but when you pass from the witness of these four or five people you pass into the world of legend, and legend, often enough, of a curiously flamboyant and senti- mental kind. We shall never know, I suppose, who had that half hour’s talk with Johanson. It must have been urgent or Johanson would not have stayed. like, as I have said, to think that it was Romilly. Sentimental? Well, people of Romilly’s natural animal order are what more sophisticated beings call sentimental. They are not afraid of making fools of them- selves. They simply don’t think about it. Dropping down into that old Seatown at night was an adventurous affair. There were very few lights and many holes and stumbling places. Very little life to be seen until the crowd tumbled, reluctantly, out of the public houses. On this particular evening there was a won- derful sky of burning flaming stars and a thin slip of an orange moon. Seatown, silent and starlit, had its beauty. The river, owing to a recent fortnight of rain, was running high, almost to the top of the river wall. Dr. Rufus died after a severe bout of delir- ium tremens in 1907, but he told Longstaffe something of the events of that evening. His was not a very glorious part in the business and he alluded huskily to the necessity of his visiting another patient when his retirement from the scene asked for explanation. But I don’t know that one can blame him exactly. He had always hated Johanson and it would have been a little melodramatic of him to offer his very useless carcass ... But it might after all have been better than the delirium tremens. He was there standing over Husky’s aunt when Johanson and Husky came in. Three old women (Mother Clay and Mrs. Harper were two of them), like the Macbeth witches, attended Mrs. Furkins’ (such was the name of Husky’s aunt) departure. For light there were two candles whose flame blew in the breeze that came in through the broken win- dow pane. It was good that the pane was broken because the smell in the room was, apparently, appalling. Rufus, in spite of himself, admired Johan- son for coming. He was, I suppose, as drunk as usual, but not too drunk to notice a good deal of what passed. He said after- wards that if Johanson hadn’t been always so interfering he would have admired him. Johanson, he confessed, was the sort of man that he might himself have been if everything hadn’t been against him. But everything had been against him from the first: he didn’t care who knew it. N RS. FURKINS was stout and red, even in the hour of her death, and was in complete possession of her faculties. The three witches stood at the foot of the miser- able bed and looked at her gloomily. They told her it was lucky for her that she was dying without pain, and drew lively pic- tures of other and much more painful death- ods. Old Mrs. Furkins was in terror, abject, gasping, tortured, terror. Terror of death, She believed in hell fire and no reassurances on the part of Rufus could comfort her. Only one man could reassure her about death and that was “’Armerjohn.” Once and over again she repeated his nickname as though it were a talisman against death. “ ’Armerjohn, "Armerjohn, ’Armerjohn . . . ” Some woman apparently had died in Sea- town a few weeks earlier and Johanson had been with her. Something he had said had reassured her. Mrs. Furkins had heard of this. She was not terrified because of her sins. Her sins didn’t bother her. After all, there were many worse. She could give plenty of instances. But this hell with its perpetual burning, its little red devils with pincers, its shrieks and groans and agonies, and all for- ever—forever and ever— Somewhere, from her far, far distant child- hood this picture of hell, after years of dis- missal, had peered up at her again. For a week now she had seen nothing else. Only ’Armerjohn could reassure her. The old women at the foot of the bed (fud- dled with drink) were themselves alarmed. Long while since they had thought of hell. But it was well known that just before you kicked the bucket you saw things clearly and if Carrie Furkins was destined for hell then were they also. They expected, then, the arrival of Johanson with a good deal of inter- est. They were eager to see what he would do. What he did was to go over to the bed of the old woman, draw a rickety chair and sit down beside her. He paid no attention to Rufus. After Hogge he abominated Rufus more than any one in the town. Nor did he greet the three witches. Carrie Furkins gulped with relief when she saw him. Gasp- ing, she explained to him that she knew that she was about to die and was going to hell and that the idea that she had of hell was giving her no end of a fright. She didn’t want no parson’s business about her sins and praying for mercy and the rest of it. She wasn’t going to pray for mercy to any one. But she under- stood that he knew more about hell than any one else in the place, perhaps because he was a foreigner. He had given a lot of comfort of Mary Armstrong some weeks back when she was worrying about the same thing. Would he tell her what he had told Mary Armstrong? The room listened attentively. Even Rufus thought that he might hear something to his advantage. Johanson looked at Mrs. Furkins kindly and told her, as simply as though he were speaking to Billy Longstaffe, what were his ideas of the matter. He told her that whatever she'd done (and he was sure that she had done a lot of things that she'd better not have done) that no hell was eternal, that everything was always changing, and that he believed that Mrs. Furkins would find that physical death made very little difference to her condition. She would have to mend her ways after she was dead and set about being a little more useful and a little less harm- ful to others. There would probably be people to help her and she would have to work a lot harder than she had hitherto done. On the other hand she would be stronger and would be rid of all the mess that drink had for so many years been making of her. He might be wrong about other things, but there would be no fire and no pincers. That he could promise her. Mrs. Furkins raised herself in her bed and smiled triumphantly at the three witches. What had she told them? This feller knew more than all the rest of Polchester together, parsons and all. She sank back on her grubby pillow with a mutter of relief and, then and there, passed away. T WAS now the turn of Rufus and the old women. Johanson found the smell of the room overpowering. He moved to the door, opened it, and, to his amazement, found the rickety staircase crowded with figures. They had not, I suppose, come into the room ol! the dying woman because they were held back by some sort of superstition. They were wait- ing for him outside. While he stood there peering into the dusk Rufus slipped out beside him and vanished down the stairs. : His first thought must have been that they (Continued on page 134)

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You can follow the Elizabeth Arden method with wonderful results at home, using the very same Preparations which form a part of the Treatments given in Miss Arden’s Salon. If you would like Miss Arden’s personal advice, write her, describing the characteristics and faults of your skin. She will outline for you a complete course of home treatments. Dees. ELIZABETH ARDEN recommends for your care of the skin at home Venetian Cleansing Cream. Removes all dust and impurities from the pores, leaves the skin soft and receptive. $1, $2, $3, $6. Venetian Ardena Skin Tonic. Tones, firms and clarifies the skin. A gentle bleach and astringent. 85c, $2, $3.75. Venetian Orange Skin Food. Rounds Out wrinkles and lines. Excellent for a thin, lined or aging face, and as a preventive of fading and lines. $1, $1.75, $2.75, $4.25. Venetian Velva Cream. A delicate skin food for sensitive skins. Recommended also for a full face, as it nourishes without fat- tening. $1, $2, $3, $6. 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Now that the couturiéres have or- dained that a woman may have a figure again, do take your tailor a figure to fit that gives him some chance to express his art. How can even the most inspired tailor make a straight and poetical suit on a figure that caves in at the back and swoops out in front? I wonder the poor fellow even tries! If I were a tailor and such a figure walked into my shop— whether it were a woman or man — men seem particularly apt to gather these in-curving spines and out- curving tummies—I'm sure I'd say, **Figure, do you think I'm going to ruin my art? Go home and make something of yourself before you come here and ask me to make something of you.” You grew up, I suppose, with the hazy idea that your spine holds you up. But your spine is just like a linked chain. What holds é up? Muscles should, if you keep your muscles young and stretchy and strong. If you don't, and they go dead like ancient rubber bands, your spine is let down. 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a4 ARIS 102 WEST 101st STREET oNEW YORK ci HARMER Hugh Walpole’s HARPER’S BAZAR JOHN Novel (Continued from page 132) were all going to some function on the upper floor. Young Husky, to whom some of these details are due, says that he stood back as though expecting them to pass. Then some woman’s voice shouted: “‘ There ’e is, the bloody furriner,” and some one raised a lantern. In this flickering light Husky recognized one or two faces that meant trouble. He whispered: “I’d go back inside, gov’nor, for a bit I would,” and was, I’ve no doubt, considerably tempted to go back himself, but the thought of the corpse, maybe, kept him where he was. Then one of the witches came to the door and screeched out: “She’s gone. Carrie Furkins’ gone!” and then some man from the stairs shouted back: “‘Then ’e’s murdered ’er, that’s what ’e’s done. Throw ’im into the river.” So far young Husky is clear. After that there is much confusion. It must have been at the sound of those cries that Johanson realized at last that he was in the hands of his enemies and that his enemies intended mischief. From what he said to Longstaffe I believe that, until this moment, he fancied that that fight of his had won him favor with the Sea- town ruffians. And so it might have done had it not been for Hogge and others who had for months been working behind his back. But I believe that it was honestly now for the first time that he realized that these men really hated him and meant to hurt him if they could, E STOOD without moving at the turn of the stairs and spoke to them. He asked them what the matter was, what they had against him; he said that he wished no one of them any harm and that he was in- tending to come and live down in the middle of them to prove that he was their friend. He could not have said a more foolish thing. Coming to live with them was he? More of his interference! They’d show him. At that there was a kind of rush up the stairs at him. Men pushed from below, there was a great deal of shouting, men’s and women’s voices confused. The lantern van- ished and everything was dim and half seen. Several men made for him at once. He tried to hold them off from him, but one of them fell backwards down the stairs and dragged Johanson with him. At that the brutal mob-instinct was roused and tumbling, cursing, hitting out blindly, shouting, they were all pell-mell together. There was a sort of struggle in the passage and then they were out through the door into the street. Here under the starlight and the moon everything was clearer and there are several witnesses to what followed. He was seen to rise from his knees and with a great lift of his shoulders and arms thrust several men from him. For a moment he stood clear, and if then he had turned and run I have no doubt but that he could have escaped. He was pretty sorely hurt by then. One cheek was bleeding severely, his coat and waistcoat were gone, and his shirt was nearly off his back. He was angry now, breathing hard, his head back and his eyes, one woman said, “all fiery.”” In any case he was in a rage and he caught one man, who went for him, a blow that landed him gasping up against the wall. Then they were on him again, four, five, six of them. The struggle was quite silent now, only muttering and curses. Slowly he sank down, disappeared, then was up again, was raised for a moment above them all. His face was now bleeding in many places. Then some one threw a stone which hit him on the side of the head. Once more they were all around him; they were moving him to the river wall. He seemed to be struggling very feebly. In the dim light it was all shadowy, not men but ghosts of men and all working in silence, HEY were raising him slowly and just as his body touched the top of the wall he made another struggle, but weakly, his head moving aimlessly from side to side as though he did not know what he were doing. The narrator of this part of the struggle could see then that he was almost naked, but his trousers were all about his feet so that he was trussed in them helplessly. He was above the wall, men striking at his body, some figure leaping up at him like a maniac and trying to tear at his hair. For an instant of time he appeared in the starlight as though he were standing on the river wall. His knees were bent, but otherwise he seemed to be standing there quite naked and gigantic: this observer said that he was clear in the starlight for a moment, his arms mov- ing, his bare chest heaving, his thighs rising as though against a gigantic weight. He raised his hand, he cried something, and there must have been something triumphant in his cry because afterward it was said by several that he shouted victoriously as though he had beaten the lot. Then he vanished back into the rushing stream of water. A woman burst out screaming and the shadows vanished like smoke. Miss Midgeley Revisits: HAVE been asked to give, with what cir- cumstantial detail I can, an account of a day spent by me in Polchester in the month of October, 1913. I am very glad indeed to do this, just as I have been only too glad to offer certain ex- tracts from my journals. I believe it to be of real importance that the world should have some idea of the character and ideas of Hjal- mar Johanson. The character will seem to many, I have no doubt, very naif and simple, and the ideas anything but original, but he was the best and most genuine human being I have ever known, and I believe this book about him, which I have now read, to be on the whole a true account of him during his life in Polchester. I can fancy that already there is growing up in Polchester a fine Harmer John tradition, and if one lived there it would be difficult, [ have no doubt, to resist it. Mrs. Penethen alone of her contemporaries will be certain to do so. But now as I look back and see him sitting in my little room and devouring news about Garibaldi, as though that hero had been born yesterday and had never been heard of by anybody but myself, he does not seem to me in any way unique—a very ordinary childish man, simple intellectually, obstinate, im- mensely good-hearted, honest, and then all in a moment possessed of a very elementary but true notion—namely the duty of every human to create some beauty in this world before he leaves it and that this beauty is best created when all consciousness of self is lost. I think that once or twice in one’s life some very simple person, who has read very few books and never exchanged ideas with so- named intellectual people, comes to one with some very simple belief or philosophy and one feels for a while as though here is a new vision of life. The effect made on you fades, of course; there are so many wise people ready to show you the negative side of every- thing and there are so many clever ways of laughing at simplicity! But once and again you look back and wonder whether after all the whole conduct of life doesn’t rest on very simple things like Charity, Fidelity, and Unselfishness. But it is only a glance; too many things crowd in; one’s own life is too heavily com- plicated by one’s temperament, one’s bodily desires, one’s ambitions, one’s fears of others. It was exactly this, I think, that made Harmer John remarkable, that all these other things did not, with him, crowd in. He thrust them all aside once he had grasped his idea. I think that he might have done things with the world had he lived. UT, after all, did I want him to? Havel ever, at heart, cared whether the world is regenerated or no? I’m too old now to look for it. The world does not change, however many Harmer Johns there be! And yet... . His notion again. One little step leading to another. A blue plate and a new carpet, 4 new carpet and a new picture on the wall, a new picture on the wall and a new view from the room.... It was raining at Polchester when at last my train consented to arrive. Safe in ‘The Three Feathers” I was quite excited to see once again in the hotel lounge the wall-paper with the yellow chrysanthemums, the copy of Frith’s “Railway Station,” and the large red vases with the everlastings. The same waiter too with the thin pale face, the red nose, and the stammer. In the morning the weather was lovely, 4 blue sky without stain and a nice smell made of burning autumn leaves below my window, rashers of bacon coming up to meet me In the hall, and the naked shiveriness of the oilcloth on the stairs. was told by my friend the waiter that every one would be at the Opening and that I must go early if I wanted a good place, so at ten o’clock down the hill I went. : Most of the town went with me and, as it seemed to me, a gayer, happier crowd than it would have been in the old days. It was, perhaps, the brightness of the day. In any case the old town was very much alive. ND so I reached the new street. And what did I think of it? Well, it was hideously ugly, so ugly that, at my first sight of it, had I been younger and more open to illusions I should have turned my head aside and cried. Heavens! This was what my Harmer John had made, he with his dream of avenues and statues and noble buildings wit fountains playing! Yes, hideous—but I am (Continued on page 136)

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+ @ amit ae : avpvrweeqe, © ore a = for MAY 1926 a 135 — | A TWENTIETH CENTURY EXPRESSION OF THE FRENCH CIVILIZATION “THE BABY RENAULT” COVERS 45 MILES AN HOUR AND 35 MILEY TO A GALLON. CONVENIENT TO PARK ANY WHERE,/MOOTH AND GENTLE TO JTEER.A MASTERPIECE OF SMART SIMPLICITY WITH EVERY NEWE/T MECHANICAL IMPROVEMENT, INCLUDING FOUR-WHEEL BRAKE’. BABY RENAULTSY FULLY EQUIPPED PRICED FROM $1850 TO $2200 INCLUDING THE TAX. Ww ON OCTOBER 13™ 1925, AT MONTHLERY (FRANCE) A 40 HP RENAULT /TOCK CAR ESTABLUHED /IX NEW WORLD RECORDS RENAULT-719 FIFTH AVENUE NEW YORK-JSERVICE,PARTS 776-786 ELEVENTH AVENUE

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136 7 a! a { , ‘Duo-Setle You can wear it invisibly! Lily of France creates body supporting gar- ments as great couturiers do gowns—with the same infinite care and tremendous pride Choose the “Duo-Sette” for tantalizing in visibility, for a sculptured loveliness of line! ‘Duo-Sette” EXHIBITED AT QUALITY TORT Ihe Lily of France is the beautiful corset worn by beautiful women lo make them more beautiful The makes every teatias lovely HARMER Walpole Hugh HARPER’ JOHN Novel BAZAR (Continued from page 134) sure after all a vast improvement on that terrible old Seatown slum. No slum here any more. The neat sober houses each dressed in that dull gray stone that is my especial detes- tation, each with his two windows decorated with nice overhanging slate eyebrows, each with his gray ears pricking up to heaven so neatly in their appropriate places. Oh, the ugliness of that street! But there was a fine smooth road in front of the little houses, a mild gray stone wall and the river Pol beyond that last, at least, as it had ever been. All so clean, so neat and comfortable. Every little house with its bath (h and c) and its excellent sanitary arrangement, a little garden back and front to every house. No slums any more and no old inhabitants of the slums either. Whither had they all fled, those ghosts of the sinister past? Hiding in the caves of the sea and the hollows of the Glebeshire valleys? Or all reformed with clean faces and clean collars forming part of this handsome crowd that pressed me in on every side? No time for more speculation. On a plat- form in front of us (we were all packed to- gether at the street end) behind a table covered with a red cloth stood the dignitaries of the town. I recognized some of them. Why, cheery Mildmay the auctioneer was Mayor, and very happy in his handsome robes he looked, and there, on either side of him, a little aged but only a little, were Mortimer Shandon and Ben Eagle, Cassidy, gigantic Carlyon, and Massing of the Post Office. No sign anywhere of my old friend Mr. Hogge. Some of the Cathedral folk also. Pretty Lady St. Leath with her stout amiable husband, Mrs. Sampson, Mrs. Ryle, and of course my adored Mrs. Bond. How amusing to see them all again! To see them still here, leading apparently the same lives, busied in the same interests while I had been lost in that London turmoil forgetting their very existence. Whether it was in some fashion like coming home again I don’t know but they appeared to me a kindly-faced, generous- minded little group. I liked to fanc y—so sentimental was I at the moment—that some of this was Harmer John’s doing. So sentimental was I th it I thought quite highly of old Mildmay’s speech. I don’t remember now a word of whet he said but I can see him still in my eye all flushed and cheerful, taking every bit of the work upon himself, quite complacent about everything. So were we all. Myself was complacent. I stamped the ground with my umbrella, shouted “Hear! Hear!” with the rest and congratulated myself most warmly for this fine improvement in our dear old town. The sun was now shining fully upon the row of self-conscious houses and that was an excellent thing because we could not see them without hurting our eyes and so did not look at them and so were able to shout ‘Hear! Hear!” more convincingly than ever. HEN it was all over and, in a great surg- ing mass, we moved up the street. was lucky in this, that having been on the outskirts of the first ceremony I was one of the earliest to move up the street for the second. This second ceremony was, of course, the unveiling of the tablet to Harme r John. There we all stood in the broad space just in front of the house where, during the last months of his life, he had lived, staring at that beautiful view that he had so greatly loved. Staring also at his fountain. There it was, I very close to it, kept from it only by some railings, looking so brave and handsome and noble in the sun, the dark friendly tree stand- ing over it, the old gray wall behind it. And on the gray wall was a little brass tablet, covered at present by a white cloth. By this time I was, let me at once confess it, very considerably excited—excited as I had never been in all the last seven years. And how delightfully was my excitement increased when I found that Lady St. Leath was to perform the ceremony here! She came, smiling so prettily, into the en- closure, stood under the tree and then facing us, blushing a little, made a speech. It was a very small one but most honest and sincere. What she said was that she had scarcely known Hjalmar Johanson and that she re gretted now, as many others do, that she had not. She said that he was a real lover of their town and that his only thought had been to serve it but that, by many people, he had not been understood. They were all ashamed now of their mis- takes and because they were ashamed they had subscribed together (and she would like to say that subscriptions had come in from all parts of the town) and put up this tablet. She pulled a string and the simple record stood there: HJALMAR JOHANSON FRIEND OF THIS TOWN DIED OCTOBER VII MCMVII. Every one clapped and Mr. Cassidy made a sentimental speech to which I did not listen. Every one moved up the hill to the Cathe. dral service. I stayed there a while quietly by myself. WENT later to pay my call on my olf friend Mrs. Penethen. I found her alone, in the old kitchen, and very much the same as seven years before when I had left her. She was surprised of course to see me and pleased, I think—pleased if I did not stay too long. F sat down and we talked very happily together for an hour or so. She had not gone down to the ceremony she said. I gathered that she found this new Johanson legend pretty absurd. They were as false now about him, she implied, as they had been before when they threw stones at him. She said, however, very little about him—one interesting thing though in connec- tion with Maude. I asked of course very soon about that young woman. Mrs. Pene- then replied drily that she was as well as could be expected. Was she happy? No, she was not and never would * But she ruled her husband, I gathered, with complete severity. Mrs. Penethen also told me that after her marriage she had fought a feroc ious battle with the mother-in-law, fought it and won. Mrs. Boultewood Senior had retired to Buquay where she sat in a lodging-house and counted her money. Had Maude, I ventured to inquire, quite forgotten Johanson? Forgotten him? No Indeed, she had not. She had the maddest idea: she thought that he was not dead. “Not dead!” I cried. ‘But that’s lunacy.” Yes, it was lunacy, Mrs. Penethen agreed, but lunacy or no, that was Maude’s idea. Absurd beyond anything, I continued, be- cause if ever in the world any one lived who would show himself and return to those he loved it was Johanson. Mrs. Penethen agreed entirely. It was all silly foolishness, but many beside Maude had the same idea—ignorant people of course There were stories. He had been seen in the woods above Orange Street, on Parminter’s Field, he had haunted the disappearing ruins of the old Seatown. “Always laughing, al ways jolly, they say heis. I wouldn’t think,” continued Mrs. Penethen, “anything at all about it if it didn’t disturb Maude so. But the girl’s always thinki ing about it, expecting him to turn up one day. No, the body had never been found. That was why his death could not be brought home to any individual. The scandal, however, had been terrific (as I could myself remember) and Hogge ha‘ been forced to leave the place No one had intended, of course apa the attack on Johanson should go as far as it did, but that was the way of these things. You couldn’t tell whe re they would end, Canon Ronder’s reputation, Mrs. Penethen told me, had suffered gre atly in the affair He had done nothing wrong exactly, but that he should have mixed at all in such company was considered very damaging. He took now a less prominent part in the town’s life. He had grown extremely stout. There was talk of his retiring to a country living. So passed a very pleasant hour. We had, each of us, our memories and these we mu- tually respected. She was relieved, I think, when having invited me to share her midday meal I refused, saying that I had some sand wiches with me and on this lovely day in tended to sun myself on the hill. So we parted with friendly feelings and guilty of no indiscretions afterward to be regretted. NCE up in the woods above the town, sitting on a bank under a canopy of gold and amber leaves, feeling the sun beat warm upon me, I forgot everything and every one save Harmer John! I thought of him with eager longing. Could I but see him tor a moment again and tell him that, through all these years, | had not forgotten him! Was he perchance somewhere about his beloved town on this day when every one was praising him? Or, like Arnold’s Gipsy At some lone homestead in the Cumnor hiils Thou has been seen, or hanging on a gate To watch the threshers in the mossy barns Children, who early range these slop s and late For cresses from the rills Have known thee watching, all an April day, The springing pastures and the feeding kine, And marked thee when the stars come out and shine, Through the long dewy grass mo away.” ve slow I repeated the beloved words to myself, nibbling also at my sandwiches The blue intensity of the sky and the thick gold of the autumn wood, the still crystal ait af the beauty of the so familiar poetry | ight me an exquisite mood of silence and tr juillity. (Concluded on page 13%

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1926 137 : | eS \ Bee | r wR eS r ere. 4 Catt R \ 636 Fifth AveS’ CAL Sla. St.) \ i NEW YORK r alone, le Same eft her, . me and \ ot stay Tr ur Pari owe, 39, Avenue des Champs Elysees Has sent usa fascinatin ‘out Spring Collection o happily \ remony his new r* cious N it and ; \\ ired to \ ise and CHIFFON*?PRI Made of the latest silks and design the collection of the Paris Haute Conutur SS addest \ % x i 1. . j inacy,” % | agreed, | * | pa. ed, be- A ed who ts ¥ y iose he | 4| WHEN IN ‘PARIS DO NOT FAILTS *| TO SEE OUR COLLECTION }% was all de had course 7 in the A | ~ ~ SS . \ uinter’s : 57 dU g ruins ng, al think,” at all sth The Armand Beauty Test Packet — Lael Gifs . —an aid to smart make-up ember) poe Brunette or blonde or in-between, id, but your beauty today depends on your You make-up, the smart way you use Pateated Feb. 10, 1925 Face Powder, Lipstick and Rouge. nethen — Armand now offers a way for every 1 at . . pony woman to improve her make-up—in ok now For dancing and sportswear, many | her own home, before her own frank > a young women—who do not like the mirror, by day and by evening light! 1 hed pages “ yf igs Avr a Send to Armand, enclosing twenty- oa ee Peet 1 Rae ee. Olen five cents and coupon below. You think, cover the knee now that skirts are so will receive a Beauty Test Packet vom short—have joyously welcomed the | with tour different tints of Powder, > Sana- er +4 > - Wy “ce , f eg = Girdlon Garter, a new accessory of | two new shades of Rouge and three So, we feminine dress. | excellent Armand Creams—the new | ing Elites j Eau de Cologne Cleansing Cream, I'he Girdlon Garter is made of dainty Armand Cold Cream and Armand tows, webbing or shirred ribbon, in the Vanishing Cream. ‘- soft shades that harmonize with one’s Use this packet to find your . . . , . . — ry one lingerie. Worn around the hips in- 4 a ‘eee : a with a lll iat alle elas Ee eee most becoming make-up. Try H ARMAND—DES MOINES G i 1 sac oF A oe ers eee : Please send me the Armand Beauty Test Packet with : m_ for ugh all urns. nd late ‘il day, g kine, ne out 2 slow nyself, e blue of the id the rht me uillity. ew If the Girdlon is not yet available in your local stores ask your favorite shop to order it for you. Or we will be glad to serve you direct—web garters $1.25, shirred ribbon $1.75, postpaid. Please send hip measure and indicate what shades you prefer. felt, but it holds the stockings firml) and the stress is so planned that the Girdlon cannot possibly slip down out of place. The Girdlon Garter is equipped with the new Velvet Grip clasp, having the Oblong Rubber Button with no metal stud in sight. And the fact that the Girdlon is made by the same people who have made the famous Boston years is your Garter for so many guarantee of quality, design and service. GEORGE FROST COMPANY, Boston, Makers of Velvet Grip Hose Supporters for Women, Misses, Children and Infants different tints of Powder, light and dark Rouge. Match them carefully to your natural color- ing. Find the tints exactly right for your type. Armand Cold Cream Powder. Price $1.00 four different tints of Powder, beauty accessories : : and the new Armand Eau de Cologne Cleansing : ? Cream, including the interesting booklet, entitled ; : “The Creed of Beauty."’ I enclose 25 cents. COLD CREAM POWDER in the pink and white checked hat box

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Sheer, gleaming chiffon, \{ WOOD FALLOW =: exquisite in texture—No. 308 DU BARRY - + DOVE GRAY Three of the New Hosiery Shades to match the Spring Shoe Colors N a season where color is so important it is natural that hosiery and shoes should have a hint of color, too. The favorite tones for shoes that go with the sport frock or the fluffier costume are opal gray and parchment. Bois de rose is the leading shade for street wear. And Corticelli hosiery, which is always as correct as it is beauti- ful, comes in just the right shades for these new shoes. With gray shoes one wears stockings, exquisitely sheer, of dove gray, mauve, rose taupe or silver. WOOD FALLOW: 4 charming Shade in smooth, transparent chiffon, Corticelli’s Number 322. Fust the weight for fashionable daytime wear. CORTICELLI SILK HOSIERY With parchment shoes Corticelli offers Du Barry, bisque, nude, kasha, shell, and blonde. With bois de leathers, Corticelli advises its newest ho- siery shades, Wood Fallow, Wood Faun, Wood Bark and the popu- lar Pompadour. rose LL the Corticelli shades are lovely and correct. And the silk is that lustrous, sturdy silk which for nearly a century has made Corticelli famous. If you are interested in the new- est in silk hosiery, dress silks and dresses, send for the interesting book- lets offered below. DOVE GRAY matches smart shoes. And the graceful openwork clock on Corticelli’s chiffon—Number 107— lends an added touch of chic. Y Na me. City Tue Corticecu Sirk Company, Lovely Shades in Hosiery. sell New Corticelli Silks. 309 Nonotuck St., Florence, Mass. Please send me the booklets listed below. Irene Castle Corticelli Fashions. Bs sé ccesbenes ‘hint of the asymmetric N E W SHOES HARPER’S BAZAR FROM PARIS (Concluded from page 8 3) oxford in boa and téte de négre calf show- ing several new tendencies of the mode. He is a firm believer in white lizard, plain, or combined with white kid for summer wear. The lizard is not really white, but the color of uncooked brown rice, and is very attrac- tive. Instead of the coffee-cream shades of last summer, he prefers a very gray-beige, or a very beige-gray, as you like it, which he uses in combinations of lizard and kid, or for pumps of lizard or kid used alone. He is very fond of complicated arrangements of narrow straps, and shows an astonishing invention in this respect. The evening slipper photographed by Baron de Meyer has two narrow gold straps, lined with ruby satin and buttoned with ruby buttons, which cross round the ankle in an intriguing way, and have two buttons on the outside of the shoe to one on the inside—a idea which is per- fectly acceptable. The other evening slipper is a lovely thing in gold lamé, embroidered in black, red, and blue, and strapped with gold leather, the straps crossing the hexagonal heel in an extremely novel way. This is a shoe which could stand beside the embroidered satin trifles of the Grand Siécle and fear no competition. It has a square ornament of amber stones at the side. Julienne is one of the few women shoe- makers in the world. She, also, has so much imagination that it sometimes runs away with her. She also is interested in “pushing” the warm grays, without a hint of cold blue. The oxford photographed is in one of these grays; and she shows many other variations of the oxford in the same tones. For afternoon, she sees no reason why colored stones should not be worn, particularly if they don’t shine. She uses the rather neglected antelope for shoes in tones matching the present color range in clothes. When a shoe is colored, she thinks, it should be very simple in form. Drawn is a modified sandal in old rose antelope and dyed lizard to illustrate her point. She also makes a light, very shallow oxford in the same colored antelope, trimming it only with rows of stitching; and a sandal in the same trimmed only with perforations. The colored shoes, of course, are for resort wear; for town smart women usually prefer black shoes except in really warm weather. For the present smart combinations of black and gold, or black and silver, Julienne makes such a shoe as the one drawn, in patent leather and gold kid. For evening, her newest slipper is in a combina- tion of two colors, or two shades of the same color, like so many of the new frocks. She works, indeed, very closely with the couture. A shoe which us aod to be very popular for summer wear and which one sees very little of late years, is the pump or oxford in linen. White canvas or linen shoes used to be a regular part of our equipment. That was when shoes cost less than they do now. There seems to be a feeling that, as workmanship is now so expensive, it is better to put it into a more generally useful material. Neverthe- less, I saw some colored linen shoes last summer at Deauville, the effect of which was pleasant. Hellstern has some in his show cases, and makes them on order for his clients, but says that he has little call for them. Many French women wear the peasant espadrille in their country gardens. I remem- ber once visiting Mont St. Michel and seeing the Queen of Rumania treading the endless stone stairways and passages in a pair of es- padrilles of white linen canvas, and very cool, comfortable, and well-balanced she looked. Linen shoes, I should say, have little place in town, though if we should get a summer of the moist sticky heat of which Paris is capable in rare years, we may be prepared to do any- thing that will keep us cooler. The same thing applies to the straw or rather raffia shoes made last summer by Perugia. I saw one pair worn on the Riviera this spring. They were natural colored, embroidered on the toes with bright straw flowers, and trimmed with narrow bands of apple green kid. A very young girl wore them with a white crépe frock, and a bright green grosgrain hat. Both linen and raffia shoes are still in the category HARMER Walpole Hugh of occasional eccentricities, rather definitely placed in the mode. And now for the stockings. In no branch of the wardrobe has there been a developm¢ nt of luxury comparable to that of stockings Queen Elizabeth with her one treasured silken n pair would be poorer in hosiery than the poorest servant-girl to-day. And the craze grows instead of waning. Women used to reserve their “44 fin” for evening; now many wear them all day. As far as I can tell, theye is not the slightest chance of the return to fashion of the black stocking, even of the most cobwebby quality. You may sigh for the elegance of thin black legs, but you will sigh alone; and if you wear them, you will look as if you were in mourning. In Cannes, the best daytime stocking was a very neutral beige; by this I mean a beige without the slightest suggestion of rose or orange, which has become common. With white shoes the beige was very pale; with champagne shoes it frequently matched exactly; with any other tone, the tendency was toward a slightly darker shade, more on the Havana, or burnt- -sugar color. Many very smart women, not yet sunburned in face and hands, wore stockings that suggested sunburned legs. This was the new note in daytime hose. In Paris, with the black shoes than worn with dark colored costumes, these russet tones look extremely well. On pages eighty and eighty-one I have had four strikingly new stockings drawn for you, two from Hellstern, one from Glénat, and the fourth from Erés. One of the Hell- stern ones is in heavy silk for sports or country wear, in the checks which are so good in clothes. The other is an unusual evening stocking, with checks made of open dots right up the front of the leg. The color is deep and warm, and is called “‘Hoggar” after the dis- trict in the African desert of that name. From Glénat comes a chiné or mixed silk stocking, for wear with sports clothes, though not for playing, with a really extraordinary openwork clock. Clocks, by the way, are of two varieties in the best stockings. There is the simple double line of holes, finishing with a discreet little ornament at the top; and there is a fanciful arrangement of holes, from a sixteenth to a quarter of an inch wide, with a slightly more elaborate tip. Both are excellent, but the embroidered clock is not seen at all on good stockings. From Erés is a striped sports stocking in heavy silk, a good example of the grayish beige and drab tones worn for serviceable sports clothes this spring. I have seen an example of a most unusual sports stocking from Erés, made of artificial silk in quite a deep neutral brown, with a zigzag pattern in faint yellow. This is for really strenuous playing or hiking, and has an inset foot and top of heavy but fine cotton jersey in brown— an innovation which may not be too comfort- able to wear. Hellstern has new evening stockings which I told you about some time ago. He calls the series ‘‘nacré,’’ and is having a success with it. The colored silk thread is twisted with a white thread, giving a pearly look to the surface. This comes in a variety of faintly tinged shades, faint rose, faint blue, faint mauve, to wear with frocks of those colors. It is a good idea; not boresome like the strong colored stocking to match the gown, but suggesting the new ideal of meticu- lously thought out, but not banal, ensembles, which is the really new principle of smart dressing this spring. At Cannes some women wore fine woolen stockings, often with a lozenge, check, or stripe design, on chilly days. Nothing loud is tolerated; we prefer discreet color combina- tions, or if we want strong color, we use it “straight,” this year. I did not see strong colored woolen stockings worn there; they are reserved for St. Moritz, where dark red or dark blue stockings are matched to scarf or gloves. But on the whole, we are a little tired of so much pattern; so plain colored sports stockings, like the plain colored coat- sweaters, are the smartest things just now. Marjorre How rp. JOHN Novel (Concluded from page 136) I sat there, without moving, as it were in a state of happy trance. Then—was it sleep, was it fancy, how shall I ever know and who will there be ever to tell me?—did the leaves part, the branches spring aside, and a face, so familiar, so gay, glance through at me? Did I, for a moment of time, see him head to foot, strong and happy as he used to be, there between the branches, smiling at me with all his old humor and friendliness? I called out, “Harmer John! Harmer John!” Of course there was no answer. The sun I had been asleep perhaps, was In my eyes. or my desire for him had created him for an instant before my eyes. And yet I feel, to this very day, as though I had seen him once more. I seem to re member that his face was older, thinner, stiffer than it used to be, that the sleeve of his coat was brown and ragged. How should I know these things? I brushed the crumbs from my dress, burned the paper that had held my sandwiches how I detest the untidy messy ways of the modern pewsne bo and set off the path down to Polchester. (THE END)

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oOo over os a —t lll a ee i UL. CO for MAY 1926 Two Beauty 139 Crimes Ended for You by This NEW and TOTALLY DIFFERENT Way of Removing Cold Cream —with an amazing difference in the color and texture of your skin THE “SOILED TOWEL” METHOD Rubs germ accumulations back into the skin, inviting scores of skin imperfections. removes ALL N the last few months, an average of almost 10,000 women a day, have adopted this new and totally different way of removing cold cream from the skin. Virtually every important beauty expert in America urges this new way. Scarcely a prominent motion picture or stage star today but employs it. It marks one of the most sensational beauty successes in years. It lightens a darkish skin several shades or more. It keeps “make-up” fresh hours longer than before. It curbs oily skin and nose conditions amazingly. Please accept a full 7-day supply to try. It will end for you, two crimes against skin beauty most women who use cleans- ing creams have unconsciously been prac- ticing for years: 1—Rubbing germ-laden matter back into the skin with towels, cloths, etc., which k in absorbency ; 2—irritating your skin by rubbing cold cream ‘off with harsh materials. Kleenex ’ drawer... in two sizes. y aa Boudoir size, sheets 6 x 7 inches, 35¢ at . sa . Professional, sheets 9x 10inches, 65c¢ THE RIGHT WAY PLEASE ACCEPT—/-day supply to try; the only way that THE HARSH CLOTH METHOD Injures delicate skin fabric— causes skin roughness, etc. germ-laden accumulations from the pores Scores of skin imperfections now are largely traced to those factors. Stop them, and you'll be amazed at the difference. A scientific discovery This new way is called Kleenex ’Kerchiefs —absorbent—a new kind of material—dif- ferent from any you have ever seen—de- veloped in consultation with leading skin authorities solely for the removal of cold cream, correctly from the skin. It has 27 times the absorbency of the ordinary towel. It is the only way yet discovered that properly removes all dirt and germ-laden matter from the pores. It ends the danger of the soiled towel method of removing cold cream, avoids the harshness of paper and rough cloth substitutes. And thus overcomes at once, 2 great enemies of skin beauty. It comes exquisitely packed in attrac- tive handkerchief boxes. You use 2 or 3 sheets at a time—and then discard them. Never does a germ-carrying cloth touch your skin. Kerchiefs — absorbent —~ K come in exquisite flat handkerchief boxes, to fit your dressing table ABSORBENT KERCHIEFS To Remove Cold Cream—Sanitary It quickly curbs oily nose and skin condi- tions. For those are largely caused by cold cream left in the skin which the pores thus constantly exude. These new results It thoroughly cleanses the dirt out of the skin. And that lightens a dark looking skin 4 or 5 shades almost instantly. It combats skin imperfections by keep- ing the pores free of germs, dirt, etc... chief causes of blemishes and eruptions. Towels, etc., rub most of this matter back in. Thus many pretty skins are endan- gered—blemishes, roughness and oiliness are invited. Use the coupon Try this way. Note results yourself. It will make a great difference in the color and texture of your skin. Clip the coupon now before you forge*. You will thank us many times for what it brings. 7-Day Supply — FREE | KLEENEX CO., H-5 | 167 Quincy St., Chicago, Il. Please send without expense to me a sample packet of Kleenex 'Kerchiefs—absorb- ent — as offered. I Name cone occocesepeoceonoese soonescen ensecesseseeeseng> Address

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When a WwOoma SAYS ‘ y ‘COME HITHER! without words One Another beckons There are so many ways of saying it. says it with her smile. with her eyes. A third appeals with her helplessness. But the magnet is not entirely smile or eyes or helplessness. appeal, which lacking, makes powerless There is another all other charms. No woman can hope to attract more than a passing glance who does not have it. For, since time began, it has been a feminine attribute. She must have it. This personal quality is something which is not always understood. A wom- an's daintiness of person entails a great deal more than mere cleanliness. You can be as clean as soap and water can make you—and still fall short. For soap and water cannot control one thing which every woman must watch. It is not a pretty word—perspiration— but it is one which must be recognized. For everyone is its victim in some form. It is distressing, of course, to see those plainly afflicted—with those ugly dark rings and streaks of stain under the arms and across that bothersome ‘“‘perspiring * in the back. But there is something even more dis- area’ tressing—that odor which unfailingly creeps in whether there And always -is mois- ture or not. the offender is the last to find it out! Today this is a thing that careful women look to, as they do to their THE ODORONO COMPANY, 605 BLAIR AVENUE, They know they must make of it a special hair and teeth and fingernails. little rite of the toilette. No ordinary methods will do; no tem- They must have a dependable, scientific correc- tive. And they have found it, millions of them,in Odorono, the Underarm Toilette. porary, ‘‘home-made’’ measures. Odorono is an antiseptic liquid formu- lated by a physician to correct both the evils of perspiration. It is the original corrective for both moisture and odor. Physicians and nurses use it constantly in hospitals as the one scientific, dependable corrective. Here is what one medical authority says of it: Dr. Lewis B. Allyn, head of the famous Westfield Laboratories, Westfield, Mass., says, ‘Experimental and practical tests show that Odorono is harmless, econom- ical and effective when employed as directed and will injure neither the skin nor the health.”’ One application of Odorono assures 3 days’ freedom from all annoyance. And you don’t need to bother with any other protection for your clothing! Keep safe this great appeal of personal Don’t run the risk of offend- daintiness! ing with odor; with those which dry cleaning can- not blot out! ugly stains For com- plete, constant assurance —Odorono twice a week! 35¢, 60c and $1 toilet counters or postpaid. at all sent CINCINNATI, O. 605 BLAIR AVENUE Ruth Willer Please send me sample of Odorono and booklet for which I enclose 5c CINCINNATI, OHIO Me Name Addre 5S NOTE: If you would also like to try Creme Odorono, a delishtful new creme which corrects odor only, send 5c additiona HARPER’S BAZAR TAMPICO Joseph Hergesheimer’s Novel (Continued from page 103) amend my remarks,” he concluded, with a crimson face and hands clenching the inse- cure arms of his canvas chair. Bradier lamely explained that he hadn't attempted a correction; he was so interested in what Scott had told him that women seemed immaterial. “T’ll tell you this, too,” the other persisted, “if you think women are ever immaterial, you haven't learned much from being alive. They are back of pretty near everything, if you go far enough and have the sense to see your own hand without a telescope.” He positively glared at Bradier. Irritated, his head now aching intolerably, Bradier lost his self-command: “You are hardly in a position to speak about my sense, and you may take it that your resignation has been forwarded and accepted. “5 He rose, and in this ¢ ‘aptain Scott followed him. ‘Not to you or by you!” he exclaimed. “I’m answerable to Mr. Lentz, whatever he is, and not to any flying Dutchman! You’re as bad as this Mrs. Corew.” Bradier’s anger, his bearing, chilled. “I find the it you are taking advantage of your age,” he said. Scott gazed at him in silence, his eyes puckered 2nd his lips formed in a slight sound- less whistle: then, abruptly, he walked to the railing of the lookout and, with his back to Bradier, he gave an appearance of being absorbed in the berthing of the tanker. HERE seemed to be nothing more to be said then to Captain Scott, and Bradier, discon- certed, descended to the ground. What had the cursed old jackass meant by his grimacing? He had an impulse to return to the lookout and fling him into space. Then he forgot the personal in the memory of what had been said about George K. Lentz, the sudden occur- rence of the possibility that Lentz, for reasons of his own, had been destroying the integrity of the sea terminal. It was an absurd thought but it stayed in his mind. Lentz could have no reason for proceeding against Presby Corew, none for attacking the Alianza proper- ties here . unless he were interested in oil leases in the northern field. Perhaps he owned land near Tancoco Hill and—without, of course, appearing—wanted to dispose of it to his corporation, with the transference subject to royalty on the oil. That was not unreasonable; it explained all his opposition to Chorreras, and it would be almost impos- sible to identify him with such a sale. If he could see Rayén successfully, Bradier realized, a great deal might be accomplished. He was convinced that Lentz was guilty of some criminal scheming, but—he had a strong position in the United States—it would have to be absolutely proved. At any rate, Bradier felt that his purpose in remaining was nearer fulfilment, its all too broad field had been pe rceptibly narrowed. He was now anxious to see Corew on his return from Tampico and Lentz; that, too, might well be valuable. It was after lunc h, and it occurred to Bradier that he should go to the Corews’ house and, at least, ask after Vida. He was, however, curiously reluctant to do this; and seeing her, as he approached, on the veranda, his sensation of awkwardness increased. “Oh, Govett,” she greeted him, “I am just down. How did you feel? I was simply frightful.”’ He acknowledged the headache still lurking at the back of his consciousness and sat on the steps. “IT couldn’t remember all of it,’’ she went calmly on, “only that we were both rather dramatic. And now we'll know what to expect—one drunkard marrying another.” This, obviously, was humor, and yet he didn't enjoy it. “Vida,” he replied, ultra serious, “I had a rotten feeling when I left you, as though I'd spoiled something. Do you think you could tell me what you tried to say?” She replied that she hadn’t an idea what it could have been. But it wasn’t important, she was certain of that. Nothing more, at most, than a melancholy fragment of auto- biography. “But I would like to hear it#® he insisted; ‘if it had to do with you.”’ She leaned forward, speaking in a studiously light manner, ‘“Govett, aren’t you rather sick of me? I mean, really. Don’t you want to go back to New York with nothing at all to think about or follow you? He a at her quickly. ““No, Govett, do you?” That, he told her, wasn’t worth answering. “Tm surprised you'd ask me, Vida. Unless you are tired of it, already. _ Perhaps I had better ask the same question.” It couldn’t be the same, she replied. ‘“‘I have so much to gain and you have so little. I don’t want to be left here, you know, but if you had any doubt now would be the time.” She laughed, a trace confused. “I won't give you another chance to be free. Take this one or—” He reached swiftly up and caught her hand. “Do you want me to pull you down here?” he challenged her. “You are always threatening the nicest things that never come off,’’ she complained. “And I have news for you . . . that I hope will make you more wretched than ever: Presby isn’t staying in Tampico another night; after all, he will be here for din. ner. Bradier, without premeditation, said, “I'm glad of that. It’s very important for me to see him as soon as possible.” The mocking expression on her bright lips stopped him. “My dear Vida,” he proceeded, almost in a tone of impatience, ‘‘as I’ve told you more than once, we'll have the rest of our lives to- gether, but this situation at the sea terminal, with Presby, is immediate. It’s here and it will be over in a week or less. [ hadn’t realized, and you can’t guess, how serious, no, dangerous, it is; and it doesn’t only affect Presby; I’m included in it now. Unless I am very wrong you will hear that to-night, when he returns. If I am right the situation will shift from him to me.” She broke into his speech inpationtiy. “You must go at once, Govett. I knew it would be bad for you here. Now listen to me, very carefully, and don’t interrupt me until I’m finished: why do we bother with details that will keep us apart for weeks and months? You always insisted on it; and, if you'll remember, I said nothing. Let’s go away together, now, before it’s too late. Presby will make it as easy as possible after- ward, the divorce will come along quicker, as a matter of fact. Govett—before you are obliged to stay! If we go now it will seem only romantic.” She gazed at him with nar- rowed intent eyes and a faint eager smile. Fascinated, he asked: “‘ How?” She waved toward the Gulf, to where a tanker, beside the ship lately come in, was deep in the water. ‘She’s sailing to-night for Destrehan; and they’ll take us on account of you and put us ashore at New Orleans. They'd have to. Can’t you see how easy it would all be, and better than your plan? To- night. Please think of it.” Bradier, dazed by the hard simplicity, the entire practicability of her suggestion, asked: “What about Presby?”’ ““Presby can take care of himself,” she answered; “he'll have to, anyhow. If I haven’t a feeling of responsibility, there is no need for you to bother. And everything is worse than it seems, even in Mexico.” Govett Bradier repeated that the position here, at Chorreras, was acute for both Corew and himself. Vida said impetuously, ‘Take me when you can get me, Govett. Do you suppose I can keep on throwing myself at you? I mean with the same interest. There is no bottle of brandy this afternoon. Govett, look at me, take me. Only you could.” She was out of her chair, beside him on a knee, with her mouth against his ear. HERE were three tank steamers lying at the mooring buoys off the sea terminal. Govett Bradier counted them, three. He had come back to Mexico on a tanker r, and now Vida wanted him to leave on one . . . with her. Three days—there were three steamers —with Vida in the Gulf. The longest nights, the longest sunny hours, imaginable. It would be like an act of magic—burdened with troubles, responsibility, and danger he had neither sought nor desired, in an instant al- most he’d be transposed into the utter serenity of an empty blue horizon with Vida at its center. He had a sudden realization of the shortness of life; against that brief uncer- tainty the days that she proposed, heid out to him, were infinite in their possibilities for rapture. There was no reason within him either, in the entire scope of his philosophy of action, why they shouldn’t do what Vida, with her remarkably quick perception, had conceived; it accorded with the manner of all his success. And then there had been a slight note of warning in her voice, a premonitory reminder that the present was the time for their love. She had said plainly enough that she couldn't keep offering herself to him. Women’s emo- tions were variable— “Of course, I can’t do that,” he said, and, speaking, he was completely surprised by the words, the decision, he had eo They were totally opposed to his fast forming intention, to what, intrinsically, he was. Vida was again in her chair, cool and remote, delightful in appearance; it was difficult to realize that only a moment before she hi been close to him, imploring him to take her away from responsibility and the mistaken past. The faint mocking smile was just vis- ible at the corners of her evenly vermilioned lips. ‘It would be wonderful,’ he admitted regretfully; “I don’t have to teil you how much— ; “Why, Vida,” he broke into his own (Continued on page 142)

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-AR here?” nicest lained, it lips ost in more for MAY 1926 141 Beauty knows no age In the maelstrom of smart modern society, beauty is ageless. Matron and flapper blissfully sip the forbidden concoction and flip the fragrant weed, each engagingly attractive in her own respective way ! ELENA RUBINSTEIN — noted beauty-scientist to whom the world of fashion turns for prolonged youth and beauty—stands out preeminent for her scientific con- tributions to enhanced feminine charm! You who aspire to increased beauty—you who desire nothing less than perfection for your skin and contour —will rejoice in the rejuvenating technique evolved by Helena Rubinstein. Even one beauty treatment in the charming intimacy of her salons is a revelation in renewed youth and loveliness. For daily care of your skin, use the Valaze beauty preparations compounded by Helena Rubinstein in perfect har- mony with the most delicate skins, and divinely youthifying! Always feel perfectly free to visit the nearest Helena Rubinstein salon for a professional diagnosis of your skin, treatments, consultation or advice. Cultivate youth and beauty with these highly specialized Helena Rubinstein creations VALAZE WATER LILY CREAM cleanses—youthifies The luxury cream. Contains a youth- renewing essence, extracted from water lily buds. Brings new life and beauty to the complexion. 2.50, 4.00, 7.50 VALAZE EXTRAIT for tired eyes—delicate skins An exquisite, rejuvenating lotion for dry, sensitive skins and for erasing “‘tired look”’ about the eyes. Apply on moistened com- presses. Instantly revivifying. 2.50, 5.00, 10.00 VALAZE GRECIAN ANTI-WRINKLE CREAM (Anthosoros) for lines—wrinkles—hollows Richest of creams, supplies much needed nutrition to underlying tissues, smoothing out lines, wrinkles and crowsfeet. Rounds out hollows and restores youthful beauty to aging hands and crinkled-looking eyg- lids. 1.75, 3.50, 6.00 VALAZE GEORGINE LACTEE for drooping chin—puffy eyes Wonderful muscle tightener. Pat in to strengthen and brace the relaxed muscles and tissues. Corrects double chin, puffy eyes, baggy cheeks and quickly restores the youthful, clear-cut, contour. 3.00, 6.00 VALAZE BEAUTIFYING SKINFOOD clears—whitens “The skin-clearing master piece’’—a stimu- lating cream that lightens, purifies and refines the skin. Clears away sallowness, a muddy, faded appearance, light freckles and darkened skin pigment. The perfect beauty cream for daily use. 1.00, 2.50, 4.50 VALAZE LIQUIDINE for shiny nose—oiliness Instantly removes shine, frees pores of ex- cess secretions, whitens, corrects oiliness, and leaves a smooth “‘mat”’ finish. 1.50, 2.75, 5.00 For “keep your good looks” is apparently the order of the day! The ideal “make-up” Flattering — subtle in tones and shades—and protective in quality — Helena Rubinstein’s cosmetics indicate a positive genius for enhanc- ing and guarding feminine beauty. VALAZE CREAM OF LILIES—a delicate make-up base—keeps powder and rouge de- lightfully adherent—imparts a smooth, soft, whitened effect that is most flattering. 1.50, 2.50, 4.00 VALAZE COMPLEXION POWDER for normal or oily skins. VALAZE NOVENA POWDER for dry skins. 30th fine, clingy, fragrant. 1.50, 300, 5.50 VALAZE RED RASPBERRY ROUGE the only authentic raspberry rouge. Brilliant, richly colorful—blends with every type. Compact 1.00. Rouge-en-Creme, 1.00, 2.00, 5.00 VALAZE RED GERANIUM ROUGE—new! —youthful, vivacious—the most flattering shade for blondes, and a becoming evening shade for every woman. Compact 1.00, Rouge- en-Creme, 1.00, 2.00, 5.00 VALAZE CRUSHED ROSE LEAVES—an ideal rouge for the woman who prefers a subtle, natural effect. Compact, 1.00 VALAZE LIPSTICKS—to match rouges— ultra-smart—stay on wonderfully. 1.00 VALAZE SIFTER COMPACT VALAZE DOUBLE COMPACT New—two stunning vanities in Chinese Red recently created by Helena Rubinstein and all the rage in Paris! Conveniently small, yet containing as much rouge and powder as ordi- nary large compacts. Choice of shades. 1.50 VALAZE MIDGET DOUBLE COMPACT— as tiny as your wrist watch. Silvered— Ideal for evening. Chinese Red for daytime. 1.50 VALAZE PERSIAN EYE-BLACK (Mascara) —gives the effect of thick luxuriant growth, stays on, keeps lashes soft and silky. 1.00, 1.50 you cannot procure Helena Rubinstein Beauty Preparations locally, order direct from If 9 Hel Rubinstein Beauty P. t locally, order d NEWS Look for this Valaze trade-mark on all Helena Rubinstein preparations CHICAGO—30 N. Michigan Blvd. DETROIT—1540 Washington Blvd. Salon de Beaute Valaze 46 West 57th Street, New York PHILADELPHIA—1719 Chestnut St. BOSTON—234 Boylston Street NEWARK—951 Broad St. all skin imperfections. Write for ‘SECRETS OF BEAUTY "—Edition H-5 a fascinating and instruc- tive 40-page pamphlet of value to every woman. Out- lines correct care of dry or oily skins, enlarged pores, blackheads, puffiness under the eyes, drooping chin and Free.

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142 They've ERE is a way to whiten cloudy teeth that leading dentists of the world approve. It marks a new era in tooth and gum care. It is changing the tooth cleaning habits of the world. In a few days it will work a trans formation in your mouth. Your teeth will be amazingly lighter; your gums firmer and of healthy color. In fairness to yourself, please try it. Just send the coupon. Teeth disfigured by film. The health of gums imperiled Dental science traces scores of tooth and gum troubles to a germ- laden film that forms on your teeth. now Run your tongue across your teeth and you will feel it cous coating. a slippery, vis- That film absorbs discolorations from food, smoking, etc. And that is why your teeth look “off color” and dingy. It clings to teeth, gets into crevy- Mamata inianisioe 9s at the worst enemy to teeth ean feel it with your tonguc Name Address Only London, England Mail coupon for 10-day tube to rHE Dept one tube to a family Toronto, Ont., Send the Coupon Let us send you a full 10-day tube. Note how teeth lighten and gums become firm when those dingy film coats go. Stopped Spoiling attractive smiles now with cloudy teeth—you whiten dull teeth and Firm the Gums remarkably this new way ices and It lays your gums open to bacterial attack. Germs by the millions breed in it. And they, with tartar, are a chief cause of pyorrhea and decay. stays. Brushing won’t end it Ordinary won't dentifrices and cleansing fight film successfully. Feel for it now with your tongue. Note how your present cleansing method is failing in its duty. Now new methods are being used. \ dentifrice called dif- ferent in formula, action effect from any other known. Pepsodent and Largely on dental advice the world has turned to this method. It removes the film and Firms the Gums It accomplishes two important things at once: Removes that ilm, then firms the gums. No harsh grit judged dangerous to enamel. A few use will power beyond all doubt. days’ prove its FREE Pepsadéeni The New-Day Quality Dentifrice Endorsed by World’s Dental Authorities PEPSODENT 362, 1104S COMPANY Wabash Ave., Chicago, Ill, U. S. A 2157 Canada Sydney, N. S. W., Australia HARPER’S BAZAR TAMPICO Joseph Hergesheimer’s Novel (Continued from page 140) sentence, “how could I? Think for a minute what it would mean, and not only because of Presby. I’ve committed myself; I’ve de- liberately taken up the problem of setting the sea terminal straight, and discharged men and made engagements. I’m back, Govett Bra- dier, in Chorreras. It doesn’t matter how I got here; I’m caught, if you want to put it like that. Vida, I’m not afraid of leaving to- night, what men would say couldn’t stop me; it’s quite different.” E STOPPED again, struggling with the familiar difficulty of finding expression, an excuse, for all that he had lately and gra- tuitously undertaken. There was still a greater need to explain this to himself than to Vida. “Well,” he concluded lamely, failing, “if you can’t see how it is I don’t know how to tell you. This isn’t the first time we’ve had it to meet.” Vida asked what he meant by it. Bradier didn’t, he admitted, know. “I guess it’s like a game,” he concluded, “like roulette—if you’ve put your stack on the red you don’t care to take it off while the wheel is spinning.” She laughed at him, a laugh like the ring- ing of new silver dollars. “‘Don’t you see, Govett, I thought you had your stack on me. I am afraid it was in my head that you were plunging; but it seems I’ve only been worth a blue chip.” That, he told her, was impressive, but it didn’t mean anything. “You carried the illustration too far. Since you are so good at explanation, you might answer for me—what is it that keeps me from going on that tanker with you to-night? Remember, I want to more than I want to live.” “T’ve already answered that,” she asserted, “and you have forgotten. Anyhow, I’m sick of bothering about these trifles; it’s too much like examining your religious feelings; it’s morbid. Govett, do something, even if you have to kill one of my house boys, or breathe on me. You are in a depressing state. I have the most horrible suspicion— do you think love has made you like this? Have I done it?” He begged her, shortly, not to be ridiculous. “T’m not like anything,” he declared; “from the way you talk you’d suppose I wouldn’t recognize myself if [ looked in a mirror. I’m Govett Bradier and I am going to marry you.” “Are you and are you?” she demanded. “You're going about it in such a peculiar manner. Every little while I lose hope.” In her own spirit he replied, “Don’t. You have my word.” A wave of insuperable weariness swept over him; he was so tired that he had to concen- trate his will on the mere lifting of a hand. Vida seemed cruel appalling, in her alertness. With an effort he stood up. “You will come to dinner, as usual,” Vida said. He thanked her, “At eight o'clock.” She nodded On his right the Gulf of Mexico was mag ical, purple, where it met the blueness of the sky it was black. Black water and silver flying fish, silver foam under the bow of a tank ship. HEN he had reached his room, his bed, Bradier fell into a heavy slumber, and when he woke his room was dark. With a sense of dismay he secured his watch; but, to his great relief, found that it was hardly past seven. He could even lie a little longer, comfortably, not completely awake. There was a knock at his door, a note from Vida. “Dear Govett: “Presby has just come back from Tam- pico. He is rather worn, and perhaps it would be better not to have you for dinner, since there won’t be many more like that! He hasn’t said, but I gathered he wanted to see you And in case he won’t make the effort I am going to tell him I sent this note and you can very easily arrange the rest.” It wouldn’t have been so simple, after all, with Corew present, to have sailed with Vida on the tanker; the truth was it would have been difficult ; the decision he had made, to stay at Chorreras, had been largely abstract; but there was a question if they could have gone, if he had lost anything. Presby had probably returned in a hurry without stopping to tele phone Vida, and he might have discovered her in the midst of packing, in the very phys- ical act of deserting him. That would have been too brutal. Bradier had another view of Presby Corew in the event that Vida had gone—standing on the veranda of his house and looking out over the watery expanse of the Gulf, beyond the horizon of which Vida and Govett Bradier had fled. Not sailed—fled. He could see Corew’s brightly burned, his persistently red, face and intense blue eyes, his gaunt mouth and thin nervous hands. Behind him the jungle would hide the treacherous secretive force strangling his determined but insuff. cient youth. It wasn’t an attractive vision, Still, there was no need to worry about that now; he had stayed . . . to meet his obliga. tions; General Melchor Rayén. When he returned from the dining-room he walked directly to Presby Corew’s and asked forhim. The Chinese paused in the doorway: was it Mrs. Corew he wanted to see? “TI said Mr. Corew,” he corrected the servant sharply. ‘Tell him that I will wait outside.” Presby came out at once, without a coat; his shirt-sleeves were rolled up and collar open at his throat. “Since you are here,” he proceeded, “I am glad you came, for reasons you'll understand. Things connect us in spite of what we'd choose.” He gazed frowning at Bradier, and then waved toward a chair. Seated they half faced each other in the light streaming from within. “When Lentz sent for me,” Presby Corew continued, ‘I couldn’t think what he wanted; after he had talked a lot, I still didn’t know; and then it came to me that he wanted to discuss you. To complain about you, really; in a diplomatic way. It seems you got me into fresh trouble.” Bradier said briefly that he was sorry. “Lentz asked me why I let you discharge my men and if you seemed to think you were still field superintendent. He called it an unwarranted interference with the operation at the sea terminal. Perhaps not in those words, but that was what it amounted to. It was his understanding that you had re- signed ‘from the Company. Because of your incapacity.” For that opinion, Govett Bradier admitted, Lentz had some justification; but he wanted to know what the devil he meant by incapacity? ‘“‘On the contrary,” he declared, “it’s my capacity that has begun to upset him. It is Lentz who is attacking you,” he added. Corew looked at him with a long incredulity. “T never heard anything sillier,’’ he said at last. “‘George K. Lentz! You are worse than I was.” Bradier merely repeated his assertion. “1 found it out this morning. Why he’s doing it is harder. I don’t know that. Give me alittle time.” But Corew was unconvinced. “I under- stand him, I think, better than you do. And where you are concerned his attitude is per- fectly clear—he doesn’t want his organization broken up. He says, quite naturally, that he doesn’t know what is going on.” “Tell me this,” Bradier demanded, “did he speak of the importance of your grasping what the next oil development in Mexico would be?” Presby Corew replied that a part of his conversation with Mr. Lentz had _ been private. “Private!”’ Bradier cried at him. “It was so confidential that I can probably repeat everything he said to you. For example, he intimated that the field here was about ex- hausted and that there would be a rush to the north, with very high prices in consequence. He wanted you to agree with him that the Alianza Corporation had better leave Vera Cruz and the Chorreras terminal before they collapsed entirely. Yes, and he added that that would make your position with the company specially strong. He may have hinted he’d give you his personal support.” “Lentz believes that the production here is almost over,’’ Corew admitted; ‘‘if he said much else it wasn’t very important, because nothing could keep me in Mexico; and I don't think I need a great deal of help in New York Do you suppose he has leases to sell, from under cover?” He had thought that, Bradier answered. But he proceeded silently that now, since it had occurred to Presby so immediately, he doubted it: he couldn’t convince himself that Lentz was so transparent. ‘ ; “T hope to see Rayén to-morrow night, he resumed; “‘and I ought to find out pretty nearly the whole thing from him. For, of course, if I’m right, he’s in Lentz’s pay. Corew spoke with an apparent reluctance. “TE you do it will be unofficial. Though cer- tainly it might be of enormous value. The fact is, Bradier, that Mr. Lentz seemed to have a cable about you, explaining that you had come down personally; in other words, that you had no actual power.” ee Bradier asked: ‘‘ Did you see the cable? O, PRESBY COREW hadn’t, in reality, read it. Lentz had looked for it among his papers, but it had been misplaced. “Tl see a copy.” Bradier told him. “I should have gone to Tampico instead 0 Deleker; but, then, I had to stay here, too. And you will hear complaints about that from Captain Scott. I tried to accept his resigna- (Continued on page 144)

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ON LESCAUT’ It is important that one’s ace powder be fine—extremely fine and soft and smooth; yet one complains that such powder is not adherent. Manon Lescaut solves this dilemma and solves it completely. Its tex~- ture is that of satin, of cream, of moon- light!—but it clings nevertheless to the skin under the most adverse conditions. Moisture will not cake Manon Lescaut; wind and weather do not incommode the face that it protects and beautifies. And it is ac orably perfumed, breathing fragrance that speaks of Paris and the boulevards. ‘a / \ +9. Besides the tints of Blanche, Naturelle, Rose, Rachel and Mauve, one may pro-~- cure Bourjois’ PEACHES Powder and PEACHES-AND-CREAM’ Pow- der in boxes uniform with Manon Lescaut. It is perhaps superfluous to add that Manon Lescaut appears at its best when used with one of Bourjois’ hand-made rouges. Of these there are eight, ranged in tone to harmonize agreeably with any type of complexion. Bourjois, Inc., 37 WwW. 34th a New York Joseph tion, in what I had always understood was my position, but he called me a flying Dutchman. The old sea-horse turned his back on me.” Corew sat staring rigidly into the night; his whole figure, his dimly seen expression, were scornful. “Tt’s a low mess,” he concluded, “Vida and you and the terminal and—and life. Like wading through a seepage; it doesn’t matter who you are, you'll come out smeared with black, with chapopote, in the end. A slippery mess. You have had the best of it . . . it doesn’t show on you.” “You mean I was black already,” Bradier was almost cheerful. “It’s fairly evident your hair is lighter than mine. I wasn’t brought up where they kept the grass short on lawns. Presby, couldn’t you see what was going on in Lentz’s mind? First he wanted to find out what I was doing—he’s afraid of that—and then, if possible, buy you. But your honesty is worth nothing if it can be fooled. Give me time,”’ he reiterated. “And if I’m killed in Tampico you'll know that you have the truth about a very interesting murder. But even if Rayé6n fails, I hardly think it’s in Lentz to get that done. You see, I’m not as sure of myself as I would have been only a short while ago. A short while. He mustn’t count on my incapacity, though. Not quite yet. And don’t take Lentz or that cable he couldn’t find for your authority, either. I might get a very pretty wire myself.” Vida came out on the veranda: “T can tell that you haven’t anything important left to say; you have reached the point where you only repeat yourselves and try to be im- pressive.’ Bradier gathered from her attitude that she was weary of both of them. She walked past them to the top of the steps, and stood gazing into the darkness of the hidden Gulf, a graceful indistinct figure in white. Corew rose. “I ought to leave you,” he said. “Nonsense,” Govett Bradier replied. He nearly added that it was a pleasure to have Presby there. It was, and he examined this unnatural fact with a surprised curiosity. Vida spoke without turning. “I’m certain Govett would rather have you here than me. I’ve said nearly this to him and now I'll repeat it to you, Presby. If he concludes he doesn’t want me, what will you do about it?” Corew directed her not to be indecent. “T’m not,” she protested; “you are both so occupied that there is a danger you will forget all about me. I was only trying to recall myself to you.” “Try to be human, Vida.” It was Corew speaking. ‘“You’ve put yourself in a situa- tion that needs it. Why,’ he laughed, a dry harsh sound, “‘you are leaving me for love. Love! It must be that since there isn’t enough material advancement to count. Tenderness, my dear Vida. No wonder it makes me laugh. Bradier must have beaten you into it, like they beat a hard steak in restaurants. Or else you've deceived him.” Bradier rose, “Stop that, Presby.”’ But the thin embittered voice went on. “Perhaps he thinks there is some connection between your delightful skin and what’s in- side it. Most men would. I did. I used to say you were like a flower, and I was right. You have the deep sensibilities and kindness and thoughtfulness of a flower.” Govett Bradier caught him by a shoulder, shaking him violently; and Corew was so weak that he collapsed in his arms. He fell limply forward, and Bradier was obliged to lift him on to a chair. Vida asked quickly, “Did you hurt him, Govett?”’ He answered, outraged, “‘ No, no, he prac- tically fainted when I touched him. He’s had a frightful time, Vida. We'll get him io bed at once.” He was bending over Presby Corew, and, as he straightened up, he was held by the expression on Vida’s face: she was gazing at her husband, huddled in the chair, with a remote curiosity, the shadow of her satirical smile. Her coldness was communicated to Bradier; there was a numbness in his heart and a sense of dread. Corew sat up. “I am absolutely all right,” he said in a thin but determined voice; “and if either of you are afraid of the truth, why you had better go. Bradier, I wouldn’t have suspected that you were so sensitive. But then you were protecting Vida. Very credit- able. Only she doesn’t happen to need it... her looks fooled you. If you like a flower very well; if it will keep you warm.” His voice diminished until the last word was almost inaudible—Bradier saw that now he had fainted. “Hold the screen door open,” he com- manded, carrying Presby into the house to his bed. “I'll send Galbraith,” he told Vida, later; “it isn’t serious—a temporary exhaus- tion. But if it keeps up, you will have to watch him.”” Then he was aware of her mocking glance. ‘I mean it will be serious,” he changed his phrase. “Vida, let’s get TAMPICO Hlergesheimer’s (Cont:nued from page 142) HARPER’S BAZAR Novel this over as soon as ugly.” She said, “Kiss me, Govett. with you, am I? It ought to please you that no one else—” The rest of the sentence was lost and Bradier was conscious of the paint thick on her lips. possible; it’s too I’m not cold LL this he reviewed, the following evening, on the rail car hurrying to Zacamixtle: he had, in the meanwhile, scarcely seen either Vida or Presby Corew. Vida had seemed to be occupied with the practical details of the immediate future—there were trunks covered with the subdued labels of old traveling on the veranda—and Presby, haggard but again active on thin hurrying legs, was engaged in the affairs of the sea terminal. t was almost dark, there was only a lantern on the car; Bradier appeared to be racing through an indeterminate world of formless and threatening shadows. It was dangerous to drive so rapidly, with switches that any private and ambitious bandit could have thrown open; but then it would have been equally perilous to proceed slowly and carefully. No safety was possible. Bradier, however, paid no attention to these palpable facts; he was reassembling what he had lately seen of Vida. He had been dis- turbed, shocked, the truth was, by her cal- lousness the night before with Presby. She hadn’t shown a trace of sympathy. Yet what did that matter, she had reminded Bradier, if she owned sufficient feeling for him? He was forced to conclude that exclusive women like Vida had no general warmth; their attach- ments were to individuals and not to any conception of humanity. They came into the world owing it nothing. Yes, giving her all that he had, all that he was, he had, at the same time, been largely ignorant about her. He was more and more impressed by Vida’s firmness, by the way she kept to the track, the steel rails, of her deter- minations. Once she had said that she was stronger than he; Bradier had paid no atten- tion to her assertion then; but now it recurred to him. It was true of the present Govett Bradier. She had been aware of no reason why they should not have left on the tanker for New Orleans; he hadn’t convinced her of the necessity of his remaining. The minds of women, it grew clear to him, were totally dif- ferent from the minds of men. Simpler. Without exterior obligation. There were, naturally, exceptions to this, but Vida wasn’t one of them. He found that he was a little afraid of her. UDDENLY he wondered what her firm- ness would do to his promised peace of mind, the tranquillity he had imagined for them. Would he rapidly become an old man married to a young wife? By God, he’d have to fight against that and against Vida’s almost impersonal propensity for pleasure. The thought of it tired him in prospect. Vida, when they were married, would like other men: he had seen this plainly; but what remained hidden from him was how, in such situations, he’d conduct himself. He had a very arbitrary temper and a habit of regarding what wa; his as indivisible. He might, in the most in appropriate setting, perhaps at a lawn party if there actually were such things—shoot some one, or else grow complacent. Govett Bradier couldn’t decide which was worse. It had been so much easier in the past, with the Soledads. He made the discovery that marriage was a state not suitable for him; with any one else but Vida it would have been a sheer impossibility. Well, theirs would not be typical, it would be domestic. There was a fleet racing form beside the rail car, a peon’s dog; it swerved, there was a slight jar as the flanged wheels cut through the bones of a leg, and an agonized yelping was left in the darkness. “The owner of that dog will be in to-mor- row,” the driver observed, “and you'll find that it was the most valuable animal in the whole of Vera Cruz. For the last five years it was the only support of a family composed of the aged, the helpless, and the blind. It was three times decorated for bravery and won all the local spelling contests. It could catch fish, cut sugar cane, and its pups were in- variably burros.” Bradier agreed, “About fifty pesos.” His thought left Vida and plunged ahead into the night, to Zacamixtle. He was con- scious of a growing excitement at the spectacle, the struggle, before him. It wouldn’t be easy, but he had no thought of failure; he recalled, grimly, what Lentz had said of his incapacity. It was George K. Lentz and not Ray6én that he had to watch, and he wondered what part of the Alianza offices in Tampico would up- hold their general manager and what would adhere to him. The atmosphere of Tampico was heavy with corrupt influences. If he could but find some intimation of what Lentz was after the knowledge of what to expect During that first talk on his return to (Continued on page 140)

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146 The Drape-About Scar of Russian Sable \ H. Jaeckel & Sons have created a vogue for this smart Spring Fur Scarf fashion. It’s lovely flexible beauty gives a final touch of chic to the costume. ——— Min we a YS oe One arranges it in the manner that is most becoming. Y ) AECKEL & SONS inc , $46 FIFTH AVE AVENUE Where 45" St Crosses §" Avenue Delmar Sway the MODE c*#r JPRING GEORGETTE — Opal Grey Kid, Grey Lizard trim - Sauterne Kid, Lizard Patent Leather, Grey Kid trim Navy Blue Kid, Grey Kid trim trim - 558 Madison Avenue Bel. 5 5'and 56% Nev Nork_ HARPER’S BAZAR TAMPICO Joseph Hergesheimer’s Novel (Continued from page 144) Mexico, Bradier realized, he could have learned everything; Lentz had tried to gain him for his own views. Instead of contradict- ing him, almost meeting him with contempt, he should have listened. Listened and not lost himself in the superiority of his experience and knowledge. Sheer vanity! In a few minutes, he realized, he would be in the village of Zacamixtle. He could see its lights and clearly hear the pandemonium of sounds. Instead of the traditional heavy Colt revolver he was carrying an automatic pistol in a rubber sheath, and he tried the convenience with which, in his pocket, he could reach it. The Mexicans were not as rapid shots as the Texans or the oil and cattle men of Oklahoma, not so quick nor as deadly. But they could throw a heavy knife with in- credible speed and accuracy. The automobile stopped—beyond, the vil- lage extended in a low bright band of illumi- nation on the left. There was a deserted hut and a broken wall enclosing a tangle of plan- tano beside the road, and there Bradier directed the driver to wait prepared for the possibility of a forced sudden departure. ACAMIXTLE, he saw at once, hadn’t changed; its single street, bending to the left, was a bottomless slough of fluid mud. The elevated narrow wooden sidewalks were broken and insecure. A large cantina held the bend in the road; it was lighted with gas flares and the long high bar was crowded with Americans and Mexicans; oil men in field boots and breeches, variegated shirts and sombreros; herders in close-fitting leather jackets orna- mented with silver bullion; nondescript dark individuals and gamblers in town clothes; peons muffled in serapes; and native soldiers in brown canvas uniforms. The noise, the mingling of tongues, was deaf- ening, a mixture of involved Mexican oaths and the staccato syllables of an ingenious American cursing. ‘There wasn’t a phrase unornamented by obscene or divi ine allusions: friendly greetings, demands for drinks, the shouted news of the camps, were all burdened with inexhaustible and novel blasphemies. No one that Bradier could see was sober; the entire mass of men seemed to support itself as a wavering whole; at intervals some one broke away and staggered alone further into the village; but there was no diminution in the drinking or in the crowd. \ hand fell heavily on his shoulder. do you mean standing outside? to drink with the Mexican Gulf.’ He was, somehow, shoved through the solid wall of humanity to the bar. “Jorge,” Bradier said to one of the bar- keepers, a small quiet man completely cool at the vortex of the uproar, “let me “hrough the bi ir. He nodded and flipped up an opening. “Mr. Bradier,”’ he said confidentially, ‘three of the Alianza Company men have been killed this early.” He shut a side door on him, cutting off all chance of further question. Govett Bradier moved forward between the cantinas of bamboo screen, searching for La Paraja and Sosa; in every separate shed there were contentious voices, feminine demands and masculine bargaining; he heard blows on naked flesh and a shrill screaming; the French band at the Lluvia del Ora was disastrously attempting the intricate time of a Cuban danzon. A girl in a dancing dress, at once engagingly young and sodden, stopped him with the graceful fluency of Paris; a child with the broad still face of China he: aped with paint, an extravagant pile of purple hair woven with tinsel flowers, caught at him with minute in- sinuating fingers; an Indian leaned from her door with her half-short hair and shift swing- ing forward; an American with curls of brass on the round cheeks of a doll, the mechanical voice of a doll, invited him to allow the fore gn cats to rot alone in their merc ury. ‘Mister,’ an obscure figure came up be- side him. “let me carry you across the street, will you? It’s up to my waist, and I need five dollars; you could never get through. Everything you'll want is on the other side, like it is always. I will carry you over and if you get any mud you needn't pay me. The precarious walk was sagging with the weight of passing men; but the women were stationary; they stayed in their cantinas, in the doorways of their huts, dark murmurous shapes against the lamp light or illuminated in thin embroideries. There was a breaking of glass and a tall boy appeared with the palms of his hands dripping blood, hysterically crying. A captain of the Mexican National Army, with a crimson silk stocking tied about his uniformed arm, pushed him aside with a satirical phrase; the boy in- stantly caught him wetly by the throat; and they fell out, twisting, into the mud. A second officer watched them floundering, his pistol in hand. Bradier had, obviously, passed Sosa’s can- tina, and he turned; there was the sign, La Paraja, Payo Galve had told him to look for. “What You're going A plank footway led back from the street into a room with a counter across a cor. ner, stools against the picket walls, and an entrance to another and inner chamber with the end of a bed visible. A small, very delj- cately made Mexican girl faced him with no sign ‘of friendliness. “Tf you are Sosa,” Govett Bradier explained, “you might be expecting | me. Payo Galve spoke about me. I am—” he hesitated, and then concluded his introduction, “* Bradier,” She nodded. “I am Sosa,” she replied “and perhaps you are Mr. Bradier. But he didn’t tell me it would be you. He had never seen thinner wrists or ankles, two of his fingers would span her arm. “Payo is discreet,” he replied; “he thought I might want to introduce my self differently, but as soon as I saw you—” he made a comfortable gesture. “Tt all depends on what you want,” she informed him. At the counter she produced two brandy glasses and a bottle. “Quick,” she commanded, * ‘I want to put it away, since it isn’t for commerce. I keep that for the few I drink with. Salud! It is good you came when you did, for I was going to bar the door.” She did this. “T’ m tired of the smell of oil. I put them all out. He asked her how; and, in place of answer- ing, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes, he thought, were green, two green flames burned in them; eyes as implacable as a snake’s. Bradier assured her that he understood, Sosa’s clothes, he further noticed, an orange- colored dress of flounces, were fresh; and her hands—she was lighting a long Rica Hoja cigar—were perfectly tended. She didn’t, she said, know why Payo Galve sent her a friend, since he never came to see her himself. ‘‘You must tell me,” she pro- ceeded, her face temporarily veiled in a cloud of smoke. “There is time enough for that,” he re- sponded, “And, with the door fastened, is it necessary to keep that bottle hidden? Overcome with embarrassment she begged him to forgive her. If she didn’t leave Zaca- mixtle soon she would lose all sense of polite- ness. “Wait.” She bere into sight a bottle of Italian champagne, pouring it, warm and sweet, into heavy tumblers. “‘ Payo is nice,” she continued, “but he is a Mexican, he is cruel; and Americans never are. Never. I was once in love with a shipping clerk from San Francisco; he always wore a vest and was very elegant with his cuffs on gold hooks. Your shirt is silk, but you are not elegant and there is no diamond in your tie. For his tie he had a hand clasping a ruby. His name was Augustus Paulgreen Rouse.” Bradier asked politely what had that notable romance to an end. “He was in Mexico at Guardalajara with an excursion, and after he knew me he stayed be- hind. He let the train go. It was beautiful but very sad, for soon his money gave out, and he wouldn’t take mine. Not even a tor tilla. He tried to walk to Mexico City and an ac- cident happened to him.” : Into that Bradier didn’t further inquire. Instead, he said, “I have just come from the drilling camp at Solis, where I heard a discus- sion about Adeline. She had driven past w ith General Rayén.” He wondered if Sosa, face with smoke. “You will always hear talk about .\deline,” she returned, waving the tobacco smoke away. ““She is fortunate to be so ugly; no pretty woman could make the stir she does. I am told that if holy water falls on her it boils.” “T haven't seen her,” Bradier admitted; “and I am curious. Is she in Zacamixtle, an is she too exclusive for a casual visit? “Adeline is so vain she’d see any one: and brought at need, clouded her she is here; but this isn’t a fortunate night. She has visitors who are not casual. HAT was a shame, he answered, since, from what he had been informed, her friends were as interesting as herself. ; Interesting, yes, but she didn’t advise him to see them; Americans they didn’t favora ibly regard. Bradier said gravely that he was acq iainted with General Melchor Rayén’s prejudices and habits of mind. However, he was con need that Rayén would not be violent in his recep- tion of him. j Sosa admitted that that might be the tact, herself she had heard of Senor * woh lier t and the days of Carranza. But she couldnt recommend it; not to-night. If he saw him at all, Govett Bradier « fided in her, it would have to be exactly then. *To-night!”’ he emphasized it. er con- Sosa was impatient, annoyed at him. . he seriously wanted to see General R iy6n and Adeline, seriously, there was no hurr) \ment- cans spoiled their dishes by cooking everything over such a quick fire. No one had been able to convince Augustus Rouse that walking 1 Mexico was ill-advised. (Continued on pase 148)

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If you cannot find at your dealer the KAPOCK you desire, write us direct. Send 10c in cash for the Drapery KAPOCK SKETCH BOOK Beautifully illustrated in colors A. THEO. ABBOTT & CO. 23rd St. and Allegheny Avenue Dept. J Philadelphia Beware of imitations. KAPOCK has its name on selvage. HARPER’S BAZAR TAMPICO Joseph Hergesheimer’s Novel (Continued from page 146) For reply he made an excessively symmet- rical stack of new gold centenarios on the table beside him. But Sosa still insisted that, in the name of the Sefiora of Guadalupe, he would have to excuse her. She gave as her reason the fact that she had a beginning tenderness for him. She didn’t want to think of him swallowed in the mud of Zacamixtle’s unspeakable street. It was always good, too, to stay where your gold was invested. Bradier thought rapidly. Then, “Sosa,” he told her, “I am entirely in love with a woman at Chorreras, I want to take her away, and until I see Ray6n, until I learn something from him, I can’t.” The word love immediatcly charmed her, she regarded it with a palpable respect. She assured him that, to her sorrow and felicity, she well knew what it was. For love there was no cure. She reached forward and took the gold, letting one piece fall on another in her hand. “‘T will see Adeline,” she agreed, at last. “She will tell me if it’s possible; and remem- ber, I am going to mention her first; Adeline and perhaps not General Rayén at all. You are a rich Northerner who has conceived an admiration for her. She will, then, wish Ray6én to view you. She will exhibit you to him. And then you will have to do what you can. I am not to blame if it turns out badly; I warned you. You must depend on Adeline; get behind her if necessary; no one would be distracted if she stopped a bullet.” Sosa vanished into the room with a bed and reappeared draping a black manton over her head. She nodded, “Wait,” and left her cantina by a door, a steep flight of steps, at the rear. 4 woman in the next shed sang, “‘Oué triste es la Vida sin ti: and a man outside, his voice brittle with panic, called for Richard. “Richard, come out of that dump! You promised we’d stay together; you said we would, Richard. I have to get you back to the camp.” He was interrogating the crowding men, “‘She’ll burn his eyes out.” The room where Bradier sat was filled with the flat stink of layers and accumulat‘ons of nameless filth. A hellish place to bring Vida even by the merest allusion. Sosa reappeared dramatically. ‘Adeline has consented to seeing you; she thinks she can manage General Rayén; but she admits it’sa chance. You must be overcome by her.” “IT’S the last cantina,” Sosa told him; “the street stops first; and there are soldiers to keep people away while General Rayén is inside.” She went forward, unfastened the door; and, lifting her gaze fleetly to him, pushed him forward. “Follow your thoughts,” she said; “‘they are attached to nothing here. And don’t make the mistake of coming back if everything goes wrong.” It seemed to him that the din on the streets had grown; a woman from Haiti, a swollen and sooty darkness within darkness, was curs- ing all Zacamixtle in Bricdmo; Bradier heard and vaguely understood the terms of the juju incantation; and he called to her a name that shocked and broke her voice in a shrill in- coherence. A Peruvian girl with the classic face of the Incas, spoiled exactly as time channeled and spoiled a stone mask, spoke to him in German. No, Zacamixtle hadn't changed; it had always seemed to him to be at the bottom of a long incline, down which grotesque figures sped on their backs, their arms and voices raised in impotent rage, dropping into the ultimate mud. The cantinas and the sidewalks ended, but he found a hard path through the brush to where a building, larger than those he had left, stood alone. A guard of soldiers seated at ease indolently recovered their rifles, the bayonets set, and barred his advance. In the most formal Spanish, Bradier announced that he was expected by General Rayén, and he was allowed to proceed. At once he entered a room with a number of tables pushed in a heedless disorder into a corner, a waiter in an apron by a long re- frigerator, and three men, their attitudes carelessly relaxed, seated and drinking. And, though one was Rayén, the whole object of Bradier’s scheming and presence, his attention was held by the figure moving toward him. He knew, from her situation and dress, that it was Adeline; but there was no other sign that she was feminine. Her face, marked with bony ridges, white as the chalked face of a clown, was to the view an inanimate skull, for the light was so placed that her sunken eyes were no more than black hollows, in that light the dense paint on her lips was more black than purple. Standing, she gave him the impression of a mummified immobility, she bore no marks of the little graces and imperfections of a warm humanity; her features, it seemed, were no more capable of the changes of emotion than bone. Adeline, Bradier thought, was cold; with the coldness of newly dug clay. “Sosa told me I might stop and see you,” he said hurriedly, in the necessity of bringing to an end a stare that threatened to be awk- ward. “You are so occupied that it was specially pleasant of you to let me.” HE was, Adeline replied, in a voice which startled him because of its normal quality, its propriety of wording, very glad to welcome him. It was true, though, that she was occupied. “General Melchor Rayén,” she pro- ceeded; “‘Captain Pacheco and Dr. Gigedo.” Pacheco was precisely the same as when, at the drilling camp, Bradier had seen him before; Dr. Gigedo had a large sleepy face, a brown somnolent gaze with lids that drooped far over his eyes; and Rayén was smarter, more alert and better accoutered than Bradier had expected to find: his gray breeches were piped in red; his white silk shirt and sombrero were superlative; and at his waist, on their respective belts, were two revolvers. For the rest he had an intent shaven face, the reverse, in its dramatic emphasis of passing moods, of Adel'ne’s. “What is your name?” he asked decently enouth. “T haven’t met you about Zacamixtle and yet you have an appearance of being at ome.” He spoke in Spanish, ignoring the woman. Bradier admitted that the valley, the town, were not unfamiliar to him. “I am Govett Bradier,” he added. It would have been folly, confronted by so many possibilities to both himself and his plans, to have attempted any concealment o. his identity. Pacheco leaned sharply forward, his ex- pression blank with surprise; he whispered with an animated sibilance to Rayén. “The Alianza Petroleum Corporation—” that much was audible, the rest was lost, and then he returned to Bradier. “We would rather have you here, in this room, Mr. Bradier, than any other man in Mexico.” Adeline interrupted him petulantly. haps so would I. It doesn’t concern you or Melchor, either. You talk as though he came purposely to see you.” Captain Pacheco told her, “I can scarcely understand your Spanish, but English I don’t know at all.” Adeline put a hand around Bradier’s arm. Close beside him her face was no more human. She was drenched with perfume, and he saw that she had tied narrow black velvet ribbons in bows on each wrist . . they had the effect of holding tozether the dried bones of her arms. “We don’t care if he understands us or not,” she said. ‘With Melchor it’s different— he’s like a man who says he is deaf but hears what he wants. When it suits him he can only talk Spanish. We are drinking vermuth, plain,” she added; “‘but the mozo will bring you brandy.” General Rayén ordered her to sit down, to be quiet. “ You are mad if you think he came here to see you. Remember, in the glory of the Virgin, what you are like. Bradier,” he repeated, ‘ Bradier, the days of Peldez.” “You have probably been told how close I was to him,” Bradier remarked. He laughed. ‘“ Peliez wanted me to leave the oil companies and join him. He offered me a command.” Rayén’s only reply was that, at least, his ease with the language justified it. Then, “Why are you here to-night?” the General “Per- demanded. Govett Bradier waved lightly toward Adeline. “Why?” Rayé6én reiterated: his voice was peremptory. Bradier studied him briefly. “I think you understood me,” he proceeded. “I am back at Zacamixtle after a long absence, and wanted to see every one who is celebrated now. I was lucky to find you and Captain Pacheco.” Dr. Gigedo, in a tone of mild inquiry, echoed the word lucky. “Yes,” Bradier insisted; “I am not in the Alianza Company at present; but I am still interested; and there are things I'd like to ask the General, information I would be glad if he’d give me.” ; Captain Pacheco spoke for his superior. “Would it be information to learn that soon there won’t be an Alianza operation left in Mexico?” . Ray6n looked at him, a shift ot eyes like a glancing light on a steel blade. “Would it surprise you to hear that in a minute there might be no Captain Pacheco?” his o neral asked. Bradier admitted, he expanded, his amaze- ment and asked if the Company were with- drawing voluntarily. General Rayén interrupted the answer; Pacheco, he announced, was a parrot lor talk. “‘ Adeline, you spoke of brandy.” ITH his glass beside him Bradier sat aS informally as the others. He maaag' to convey a private glance of sympathy to the woman standing irresolutely beyond them. (Continued on page 150)

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HARPER’S BAZAR TAMPICO Joseph Hergesheimer’s Novel (Continued from page 148) “He told you he wanted to see me and I can’t get a word with him,” she complained. Adeline sat: below her asexual knees were garters gay with cerise rosettes; she bent on him her described smile—a twisting of dark lips from strong yellow teeth; a hand strayed over her pale, her prized, hair, the limpest and most scanty rubia Bradier could imagine. “Melchor thinks that only his politics is interesting,” she remarked. “It would kill you the serious way they take themselves down here—just like a lot of fuss among fleas. Sometimes I think I can’t stand it another minute and I must get back to New York by the next boat.” Rayén said, “New York would let you starve, if it could wait so long to be rid of you Why, then, if she were so dreadful, did he come to see her? Adeline reasonably de- manded. Rayén told her that she served him as a memento mort. “What was that?” She turned to Govett Bradier. It had something to do with the next world, he replied vaguely. “With heaven,’ Pacheco unexpectedly and satirically announced. “He tried to get fresh with me,” Adeline indicated the Captain languidly; “‘but I told him if he didn’t stop I’d have Melchor take his skin off in little patches, like postage stamps. I wouldn’t have him as a Chinaman. Why, only this week he stopped at a camp to get some boots and a man in an undershirt knocked him cuckoo with a breakfast tray. His whole company ran. Ray6én explained to the Captain, “She is telling him about your harsh conduct at the drilling camp Pacheco’s muttered sentence with regard to \mericans was at once unintelligible and The General came back to Bradier. “Well?” he insisted still again He reminded Rayén that he had already exposed his position where the Alianza Com- pany was concerned. “It’s principally curi- osity,” Bradier asserted; ‘“‘but I am willing to take some responsibility; they have a habit of listening to me North.” “In what way?” Rayén demanded; “why?” “To protect the sea terminal at (¢ “horreras and hurry the shipments of oil,’’ Bradier re- plied straightly Rayén’s expression hardened; Dr. Gigedo coughed discreetly; Pacheco said, “ Mexico for Mexico.”” The General lowered his gaze speculatively to the silver chains of his spurs, he crossed a leg and resettled one in the creas- ing of his boot. * All the oil companies are in defiance of the Constitution of 1917,” he pronounced; “and I am not in sympathy with the attitude of Obreg6n. Our political good, the great men, have always come from outside the Government. Adeline made a disdainful gesture. politics,”” she said. Rayé6n looked at her intently, and an intent interest gathered in Bradier; he realized that the General was seriously considering shooting her. But he returned to the subject of Mexico and the oil companies. “I will protect and help any man, native or foreign, who will work under our laws. Bradier asked, *“‘ Article 27?” Ge *neral Rayén nodded ‘Then you would have to give guarantees for the stability of your government. ‘If I required that from the United States,” he replied, “‘and only in connection with my own affairs in my own country, what would I be told? Perhaps we are liars at times, but we are not hypocrites.” Adeline repeated, “‘ Fleas.” The General informed Pacheco that she had called him a flea. It was well enough now, the Captain re- marked, but when General Rayén withdrew his interest from her, next week or the week after, he’d answer her for everything at once. Bradier shifted his procedure. ‘“‘Govern- ments and causes all need gold,” he pro- claimed; “‘and the Alianza Company has always met its local responsibilities. It did with Pel4ez, when I was here, and I’m certain it hasn't changed. Remember, I am speaking unofficially; but I happen to know that, at present, there is a feeling it hasn’t had a just support. Not in consideration of its—its spirit. I can assure you it would be glad to contribute a hundred thousand pesos to pa- triotic needs.’ Ray6én asked: a month?” “Not quite,” Bradier returned, “not ex- actly that. Say every ninety-nine years.” He was amazed by the amount Rayén was evidently getting. ‘Why do you bother any longer with him?” Pacheco impatiently inquired. “You know what is before us. As it is he is only inter- rupting the pleasures of drinking.” The General's hand rose in warning. “He

“More “A hundred thousand pesos is urging me to have you executed,” Rayon had turned to Bradier. “Pacheco takes a great deal for granted. It does little to improve his courtesy. DELINE, at last, had inspired herself with a mounting anger. “I told Sosa not to let you come to-night,” she cried at Bradier, “and now the chances are Melchor will have you killed. You make me sick,” she told the General, her Spanish as limited as it was hideously pronounced, as hideous as herself. “You think of nothing but murder, You can call it what you please, but it’s only that. It’s no difference to you at all if a man is a gentleman—a cabal/ero—and wants to see me. I’ve said a thousand times you don’t understand Americans. You don’t know anything about me. I see you giving me those squint-eyed—those bisojo—looks, and I can guess what’s in your depraved head. But I don’t bother about that. You haven't shot me yet, and it’s doubtful if you will, If you must do some butchering, no one could be better than Pacheco. He would bleed beautifully and the Zacamixtle dogs would send you a vote of gratitude since they can’t be particular. : “Adeline,” the General begged wearily, “for God’s sake, be quiet. If I am driven to killing you it will be for the reason I want a little peace. Mr. Bradier came here to buy me. Can you grasp that? Did you listen to him? Do men promise a hundred thousand pesos gold just to meet you? Do they give it out of their own pockets to protect an oil interest? I must say you’re duller to- night than usual.” She moved forward, her face, dead of all emotion, full on Bradier. He gazed steadily into the shadowy caverns of her eves. “Tf you did get Sosa to speak to me because you needed to see General Rayén,”’ she an- nounced, “if I found you did, I say, I'll prac- tise on you with a knife. I’m very clumsy at it. He repeated simply that he had wished to see her. “I took advantage of the fact that the General was here. She was close to him and she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘“‘Hiave you been disap- pointed?” Truthfully, he answered, no. What was that? Pacheco asked. Adeline wanted to know if he were disap- pointed with her. The Captain incautiously giggled; and, dragging one of Rayén’s revolvers from its holster, Adeline shot Pacheco in the face. The detonation filled the room in a sharp echoing crash. The laughter, Bradier saw, had been literally drowned. Pacheco threw up an arm and fell backward, but not before he had spotted ape 9 ’s skirt with blood. “The cabron,”’ she said, her face the texture of dried and bleached paper pulp. It was her obvious intention to shoot again into the figure twisting on the floor, but Dr. Gigedo dexterously took the revolver from her. He handed it to Rayén, and then went to the door, returning with soldiers. “Carry the Cc aptain into the room beyond,” he directed. “I'll see what can be done.” Ade ‘line was looking doubtfully at General Rayon: “Now I suppose he will get cross at me,” she addressed Bradier. ‘‘And if he does he’ll have to.’”’ She went to a carafe of water and rubbed vigorously at her skirt ‘“*Melchor,”” she complained, “it won't come out. I’ve just made it worse. He ruined it I can’t buy clothes like this in Mexico. Wil you let me go to New York and get another dress He told her curtly that she wouldn't need another, that at last she had gone too far, and she began screaming that he was no better the an a dirty war politician. “Everybody knows you are paid for what you do. Any one can buy you. I can’t think why I stayed so long with you in this swamp, with fleas and goats and alligators! What if I did kill your dirty captain? It only saved you the trouble later. Haven't you made up your mind to kill my friend? And he never said a crooked word to you except he was in the Alianza Company. Can’t I get mad just once when you think how mad you get? She put an arm around the (¢ General's neck and laid her incredible face against him Rayén, Govett Bradier thought, endured the embrace with a remarkable fortitude. “Don't stir up such a fuss,” he begged her; “it is a question of discipline now; rl have to make an example of you for its effect on my men MARKED distaste for his surroundings had invaded Bradier; he began to see that, at best, he would make a failure with Ray6n: he must have been paid an exorbitant sum to end the Alianza operations in the south field. The mortuary head of \deline affected him unpleasantly; it wasn’t for noth- ing that, here, it resembled death. The blood on the floor had darkened. However—no (Continued on page 152)

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I am certain it could be done.” Adeline had drawn up Pacheco’s chair, her arm remained across General Rayén’s shoul- ders, and she said in what was ev idently meant as an air of enticement, “‘ Melchor, I’m tired of this. I don’t care what you do to him if it’s right away. And outside. I’m a sight now.” He replied to Bradier, “‘The understanding is clear enough—the oil companies, under their present privileges, must be reformed.” RADIER rose and said, “Then I might as well go.” Privately, he was wondering how that retreat might be best conducted. The General waved him back into his seat. “T am afraid I would be criticized,” he ex- plained; “‘an enemy of the Mexican Nation. An American bandit.” His hand lay on the butt of a revolver. Govett Bradier finished the brandy in his glass; the situation had grown to be very unpleasant. After a short pause he asked baldly, “Is it Mr. Lentz, at Tampico, who has influenced you? Because if that is so, you have been listening to the wrong person. He is only a local manager. It’s probable he will be replaced soon.” Rayé6n pointed out that in that case he was a local manager over Bradier. “Since you admitted you were nothing. You come to me with large words but only a little money. And that’s not secure. You make a mistake thinking I am less important than your Peliez.” “Tell him, Melchor,” Adeline advised, “since he is so curious. He will never repeat it. Why can’t I have fun with him, he was laughing at me, for a while. Tell him everything he really came to find out, and then they can take him behind the can- tina. I can’t bear him now, he looks like a squeezed lime.” Bradier saw that her fingers were working toward the General's belts, but Rayén cap- tured her wrist. “ Adeline,” he said, “don’t interfere; com- pared to you I am a song bird, a flower of the Blessed Night. There is nothing else to tell Mr. Bradier.” Would Adeline and he, Bradier wondered, be shot together, would they, cut in half by the same stream of lead, fall together on red hinges? She announced, rising, that she was dis- gusted with men, yellow and black and white; in her opinion they were dummies. She par- ticularly addressed General Melchor Rayén: “You could have left here long ago and taken me to Paris the rest of your life. You’ve had enough money from these companies. I swear to God I don’t know what you do with it. You're not building another church for a silly wax doll. The truth is you are mean: your eyes are too close together.”” She turned to Bradier, “You look at his eyes and see if I’m not right.” She went over to the refrigerator—the waiter had prudently withdrawn—and found an unopened bottle of vermuth. Busy with a corkscrew she gave it as her opinion that Melchor Rayén was as mean a pup as she had ever met. The General’s face grew congested. “Lopa! he cried, on his feet; ‘ Lopa, Joaquin.” he summoned soldiers appeared simul- taneously with Dr. Gigedo, from the inner room. He said to Rayén, “I was just coming to tell you there was a vacancy among your captains.” Rayén continued, “Captain Pacheco was killed by this woman, Adeline, and I have sentenced her to be shot. Take her up in the monte.’ The doctor objected. — -morrow you would be sorry, Melchor. Say what you please about her looks, you are fond of her. She is a habit and you are a man of habits. Biologically she may suit you precisely; you may never be complete again without her.” “She i isn *t a woman, she’s a lizard,” Rayén declared; “‘and if she is a habit so is a wart.’ Adeline explained to Dr. Gigedo that she had hurt Melchor’s feelings. She insisted that she didn’t know what had gotten into her. “T called him a mean pup and said his eyes were too close together.” The soldiers had drawn near to them, Gigedo and Adeline were facing General Rayén, and Bradier, with a sudden grasp of the moment’s opportunity, in a noiseless celerity left the room. hed O BE outside the cantina, however, on Zacamixtle’s single street, was not synony- mous with safety; and he turned aside, stum- bling over the uneven ground, struggling through the green nets of Jianas. Bradier was oppressed by a sensation of sickness, faint cold waves of horror rose in him. The head of Adeline, as though it had been decapitated, hung against the night . the black lips set in a grimace. He was amazed by the ridiculous ease with which he had escaped—he had found a path leading generally ‘to where his automobile was hidden, and his attention was freed from difficulties in his progress. There would, probably, be an attempt to follow him, a search; but he had no fear of its result; there was a feeling of security in the sheer space around him, in the stars and apprehended mountains. He’d be back at the railroad before a thrust as far as that could be man- aged; and, where the sea terminal was con- cerned, it was a very different thing for Rayén to have him in a disreputable cantina at Zacamixtle from reaching him in Chorreras, He had seen General Rayén, and he had returned; but with nothing. The risk had borne no results; practically speaking, he was no further advanced in his effort to discover what was threatening Presby Corew than when, in that connection, he had first thought of Lentz. Bradier had made a slight mental reservation because his surmise about George K. Lentz, he thought, had been clearly sup- ported. He was paying Rayén to harass Corew; not, however, in a proceeding directed at Presby. What the devil was Lentz after? Bradier passed the cantina he had first entered, the noise dropped behind him, the lights of Zacamixtle grew dimmer. He drew in a deep breath, heedless of the weariness settling over him; the pistol dragged at his pocket. The driver of the automobile was, frankly, surprised to see him; he had prepared, it seemed, to spend the night waiting while Govett Bradier availed himself of the village gaieties. ‘“‘I am ina hurry,” Bradier said, and their speed mounted without reference to a road as hazardous as it was familiar; the rail car left its explosions echoing in gullies and dying along the tracks; the storage,shed at the sea terminal swept forward on the right a . almost at once he was in his room. He returned to his consciousness of Vida. He had completely forgotten her. She came back into his mind slim and perverse and desirable, with her slightly mocking smile; but behind her, as though it were her shadow, he saw Adeline. This did not more than annoy him, it was so utterly absurd, and yet that uncomfortable illusion lingered in his mind. Against Vida’s charm, her rare vitality, hung the other unspeakable deathliness. For that night, he decided, all women had been spoiled by Adeline. E WAS sorry that he had seen her, that he had persisted, contrary to so much advice, in going to Zacamixtle again; where once he had ignored its ugliness now it had been driven into him; it had colored his con- ceptions of life, increased his understanding of the possibilities of human disaster. There had been a permissible similitude between Vida and Soledad; both, in their different and parallel ways, admirable; but why Adeline stayed in his thoughts he couldn’t guess. A corruption that was yet alive. Bradier resolutely forgot her; an enjoyment of his solitude became perceptible. He undressed slowly, with a cigaret, intent on the details of his clothes: it would be un- necessary to put his white shoes outside the door since he’d wear brown to-morrow, leaving for Tampico. The failure he had made at Zacamixtle and Chorreras he would have to repair in the city. There, at last, Bradier was confident he’d discover the truth about Lentz. He simply would if he had to beat it out of George K. Lentz himself. He'd find first what avenue of payment was kept open between Lentz and Rayén, trace all the large southward shipments of gold; he’d put a check on the flying operations; suborn Mrs. Lentz’s servants and the clerks at the office; in short, have Lentz’s every movement noted. He would even dictate movements to him, lay them persuasively before him. All that would have been easier if Lentz drank; he didn't, Bradier knew; and he never went to such places as the Union or the Bolivar; otherwise he would have introduced him to Teresita. He must remember to give her the money, a hundred dollars, for her dress. She was certain of his return. He wondered if Vida would come to Tampico during his unexpected stay there. A week ago he would have said not, but he was no longer sure of her actions; his knowl- edge of her, rather than improved, was dimin- ishing. That had happened not only with Vida but in his grasp of all the affairs of life: where once he had been secure, the outlines of existence hard and ascertainable, now they were softened, blurred, in a sort of mental fog, a fog like those which stole in from the Gulf of Mexico and dissolved the familiar aspects of the land. He thought of this as the effect of his malaria; God knew that what he had seen, experienced, at Zacamixtle had been feveris enough; it might easily have been the obscene projection of a violated imagination. But (Continued on page 154)

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£ land Flosic far Won PT et es oh lego oc? te & be itp na ire & loame * a | iv? O Pos eges * a pai } Ig Foster, and. Sib tee fe Siiatmarto. BY " | Perr oe ? G —— a se thea Vez ds in “Shusedes Beige, Water Lily or White Kid £20- In Patent Leather or Blonde “Satin $18.50 In Black Satin $16.50 Chicago Evanston foster & Company Kansas Gity frm eee Sr a 3 eal SG MCE HARPER’S BAZAR TAMPICO Joseph Hergesheimer’s Novel (Continued from page 152) that was over; he was through with it: he could turn definitely from Adeline to Vida. However, she continued to evade him; for example, Bradier was no longer assured of what opinions of him lay independently back of her love. He would never find out; she’d never let him know. An utter frankness would have been as impossible for her as, perhaps, it was undesirable. She had shown him all that was in her heart once, on the veranda of Corew’s house, when she had urged him to take her away that night on a tanker, and he had been slightly disconcerted. It was plain, in his different masculine necessity, that he had failed her, and she had quickly returned to the inscrutability of her masked, her withdrawn, humors. On more than one occasion she had treated him with an air of superiority, Vida had been condescending; she might, from her manner, have been addressing a child for whom the solid facts of living were inappropriate; she had given an ——— of patience— Well, she could go to the devil with her patience; she was welcome to keep hidden whatever she chose from him; such moods she was at liberty to enjoy alone. He had a feel- ing that the lives of men and women, no matter what held them together, were always, at heart, separate. They touched at the intervals of love and selfishness and death, but for the rest they were divided. It would be useless for him to make any effort to defeat that; and his vision of a close companionship with Vida joined the rest of the indistinct shapes whirling in his head. ITH Corew it was different, Bradier saw Presby Corew in an entire clarity, the disturbed fair hair, the intensely blue eyes; he was even aware of the skin peeling from Presby’s constantly sunburned thin nose. Yes, he understood him fully, he understood his engagement with him; their relationship was difficult but plain. It had been Govett Bradier’s impulse to select the word friendly rather than difficult; but he had been obliged, reluctantly, to discard it. toward Corew His own attitude was as cordial as possible. Bradier recognized that he liked him tremendously; he was profoundly sorry it was Presby’s wife he had fallen in love with; it was an unfortunate occurrence. And, as both Vida and he had foreseen, Presby had behaved beautifully when his situa- tion had been forced upon him. Left alone his concern had been inclined to return to the affairs of the sea terminal; he’d shown more than a little impatience with sheer romance. Bradier reminded himself the same thing had taken place in him—he had kept Vida second- ary to the discovery of what was wrong at Chorreras. A direct question assailed him: would he sacrifice his present object, if that were necessary, for the possession of Vida? He asked himself this and then decided that it was a purely artificial and senseless inquiry. There was no freedom, no choice, in the courses of lives stamped in changeless patterns. The thing was to accomplish both. There was no conflict of interest. However, the brightness of Vida no longer dazzled him; calmly as a human being and viewed their impending relationship as a thing of reason if not actually prosaic. He would gain a great deal and pay for it by a perceptible loss. Bradier had once told Presby that his af- fairs would prosper as soon as he left Mexico, and now it occurred to him that Corew would be immensely better, happier, without Vida; he saw that she had been a discontented and consuming factor in his life. It might be that she had already done him irreparable harm. All this meant, though, was that Vida wasn’t suitable for Presby Corew; while she was admirable for him, Govett Bradier. An ornamental, non-domestic woman, as he had so often reflected, was exactly what he wanted. Vida was what he wanted. his image of he regarded her T WAS morning, he was still in bed, and there was coffee beside him on a small table, coffee and a cigaret smoking on the rim of his saucer. It was all that he wanted, he was perfectly, luxuriously, comfortable. Bradier viewed his impressive silk dressing-gown, hung limply over a chair, with an emotion resembling humorous disdain; its harmony of color and elaborate tassels were amusing draped around him. Suddenly, it was utterly foreign, false to his scheme of existence, and he determined to give it away at the first opportunity. He had bought it, he remembered, thinking of Vida—it would be necessary for him to grow accustomed to such details—but she’d have to take him as he was. He was too old to change. Coffee and a cigaret or two and an hour’s full peace in the morning. A Chinese house boy moving on soundless rapid feet. A complete lull in the difficulties surrounding him, waiting for him outside the door. However, Tampico wouldn’t be as hard on him as the immediate past at Chorreras and Zacamixtle; there he’d direct events rather than be a part of them. For one thing, Adeline would not be present. She had spoken of Rayén taking her to Paris; but Bradier couldn’t imagine her out of the Zaca- mixtle night, anywhere but in the cantina beyond the street of mud. An appropriate approach. He wondered if Rayén had had her shot but decided in the negative. Her power over him was so inexplicable that it must be extraordinarily potent. And Dr. Gigedo had spoken in her favor. A far dif- ferent thought invaded him— Perhaps Adeline couldn’t be killed because she w vas dead, she was death, already. ‘“ What nonsense,” Bradier said aloud, steeped in the comfort around him. He had seen a singu larly hideous woman in oppressive circum stances and enlarged that not uncommon ex perience into a nightmare of horror. In real ity the whole scene had been touched, almost saved, by humor; the General’s patriotic gabble, Adeline’s references, in connection with the Mexicans there, to the least ingra- tiating forms of life, her screaming vanities and posing at him. But Bradier hadn't meant to refer to her again. What a variety of oo mostly useless, a man’s mind held, ecially in moments ot indolence! That was the actual danger of idleness; a purpose, a personality, was dis sipated into a thousand aimless tags and ends He would struggle against that happening to him. Death itself he didn’t flinch from, but he loathed the preliminary weaknesses, the humiliating failures of body and brain. He could face oblivion, but the mere thought of dissolution revolted him. It was better to have been shot, by Rayén’s soldiers, back of the cantina in Zacamixtle. A crashing final shock rather than a prolonged complaining! He heard voices in the hall outside, a knock fell on the door and, in answer to his sum- mons, Presby Corew appeared. It seemed to Bradier that he had been inclined to hold out a hand. OU seem to have come back safely,” Corew said diffidently. He gazed at a chair as though it were an object of great concern to him; he decided to sit on it. “Yes,” Bradier replied; “I have. But not much else. I found out practically nothing from Rayén. We'll have better luck in Tampico. I’m going as soon as I can get up and pack and have a lunch.” Presby Corew informed him that the Celia was at the sea terminal. ‘And I have been thinking; I am not so certain that you were wrong about Lentz. I remembered some thins. Bradie r declared that he was particularly right. ‘He is giving Melchor a lot of money. But for what? For what, Presby?”’ That name had been a mistake, a stupid slip, but they both resolutely ignored it Presby Corew couldn’t imagine, unless Lentz were scheming to sell the Alianza Corpora- tion leases in the north field. Bradier thought not. He then told Corew generally what he had decided on: “Lentz will make a mistake and it will all be plain He'll betray himself, and I'll see that it’s to the proper person, for us. And, in the mean- while, remember I w:ll send you no messages None! Except to telephone direct if I want you. As I told you—or was it Vida?—Lentz will probably give me a little attention. | could see it in Rayén’s eye that he’d had some news of the kind. I can tell you this, too, that we have to do with the private ambitions of Mr. Lentz. Some hopeful plan of his own. We both should have suspected those clothes.” “TI feel better about the whole business,” Corew admitted; “for a while I was lost in it: I couldn't see beyond Chorreras. It might have been a shut trap. But that’s over When I spoke to you about stopping it all, I mean where it included me, that was the bottom. It doesn’t seem possible I did Why yesterday, Bradier, the pressure was low in the pump house and I knocked a fireman giddy. That wouldn’t be important with you, but it was a sign I had recovered. run this sea terminal right or into the Gulf One! I don’t care an impressive amount which. We'd all recover either way He gazed full at Govett Bradier. “If I say I am indebted to you we will let it ride as that. It would be cursed hard to find out what I did owe you... with the opposite so much easier. Would you like to talk to me about our common arrangements for Vida?” Bradier was wretchedly uncomfortable “No,” he said, “I wouldn't. I'd rather let lawyers do that. They are used to it. Corew went on: “I knew you well enough at least to realize what your feeling was about me; it wasn’t much, Bradier. If you had been married to Vida no one could have taken her away. You would have shot him ir a gen- eral applause from men. Perhaps I ought to (Continued on page 156)

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To keep her, you see. But I couldn’t convince myself that getting rid of you would do it. She wanted to leave me perhaps even more than to go to you. Vida was tired of me, and I understood that she would never get over it. She had begun to speak to me in a—a way that was significant. I mean for a woman without vulgarity. I had been too abstract; I’m more than a dash monotonous. And so I cured myself of that while I detested you for what I believed was your attempt to dis- credit me; and now I’ve recovered from that as well. It wasa mistake.” As he made this admission the twitch Bradier had noticed in his cheek returned. “You were several kinds of a criminal, but not a coward. “T don’t like you, you know, don’t take these for tears of conscience, it’s all only a proper acknowledgment. That’s not the truth— I’m trying to defend myself to you, leave you with a piece of a good opinion of me. “This business of women! Why shouldn’t Vida go to you if she prefers? I’d be worth less than nothing to her; in that circum- stance, if I could stop her, I'd be no more valuable to Gille. How is my honor involved in it? I can’t see, and yet just the idea of what you thought of me almost had me shoot- ing at you. I could hardly bring myself in to dinner with you at the table. Don’t for- get this—I knew I was superior to what you did think. It seemed to me you had about the moral standard of a policeman. And yet it worried me. RADIER laughed. “I did tell Vida that if I had been you all this could have resulted in murder. If that’s what you meant. The fact is that when I was first attracted to her I didn’t give you a thought. You would have been charmed by my attitude. But that, Corew, belonged to my past. Later, I’m afraid, I degenerated. I am inclined to try and find some apology I can offer you. But not on account of my feeling for Vida. Not for that but because I made such a mess of it, instead of neatly cutting your throat all around. And then we were both wrapped up in the sea terminal. I thought I had escaped from it. When I came back I hated it, I hated the land it was on; I . promised my- self that I was free from oil.” He laughed again, not so pleasantly. ‘‘ Mexico is a weird country,” he said, apparently at a tangent, ‘at least where there is oil; monte and ma- laria and death of the fanciest sorts; Tampico is a sink; and yet, Corew, I stayed here through all my maturity. I put my life into it... the best of my life and I thought [ was finished with Vera Cruz. “" don’t understand you,” Corew ad- mitted, “‘do you mean you are not going to leave? “I’m going,” Bradier told him; ‘“‘the ques- tion is, what will I leave . . . here? [low much will I take away, Presby? How much is left? That, Presby couldn’t answer. should try. Corew a knowledged, he He saw no reason why he He had spoken on his own ac count, where Vida and Bradier were con- cerned. He was evidently a little impatient at the loss of the thread of what he had been trying to explain, to justify. The last trace of his youthfulness, Bradier saw, had gone: his mouth was firmer and thinner than it had been, a line cut his fore- head just above the brow, minute wrinkles had gathered at his eyes. ell, it’s probable I’ve only made things worse,” Corew proceeded suppose it’s always a mistake to talk. And with us it was useless. Nothing could come of it. Vida stood between them. Corew rose. “I won't expect to hear from you then, except by telephone for something special. Vida will want to see you and have your Tampico address; it might be useful for me, If I meet this Rayén I'll have some- thing to tell you. Have an eye on Lentz and don’t let him go out in the night air without an overcoat. saw Deleker; he’s waiting at the wharf for you to arrive. He sent you some message about a girl at the Bolivar, but what it was I forgot.” Bradier was out of bed; moment. “*Good-by,” he said. ““Good-by,” P resby Ne ither of them stirred. “T'll see Vida on my way to the launch, if that would be convenient. Corew replied that he’d prepare her. ‘Perhaps she will be in Tampico before you leave. Bradier answered that he would be glad to too it was a difficult Corew echoed him. see her. An idiotic remark. “Mrs. Lentz always asks her to stay with them,” Presby continued; ‘“‘what do you think?” That it might be excellent was Bradiez’s opinion; a means of approach for him. “It isn’t settled,’ Corew was particular to point out. “‘Good-by, Bradier.” and swiftly left the room. He turned There remained, however, before Govett Bradier, a vivid impression of his rigid per- sonality. A very strong man, he said to himself; and the words brought him a sudden glow of pleasure. He, Bradier, had contrib- uted to that, but he could never give him back Vida. Then, soberly dressing, he re- membered his feeling that Presby was ac- tually better off without her. N PRESBY COREW’S Vida, he had a recurrence of his sense of her seductiveness; her dress was clear yellow and against it her skin, her face, were specially brown. No one else was present, and yet she was completely impersonal; nothing she said would have indicated there was any but the most casual and polite con- nection between them. Bradier could get from her no expression of what should have animated her attitude, her heart. “Presby thought you might be coming to Tampico soon, he remarked. “I wish I could tell you how long I'll be there. I can’t, of course. It will depend on my suc- cess.” Vida replied that she had never understood what Presby and he were trying to do. She remembered what had been said at dinner, but that was absurd. “Tt’s nothing more, though,” Bradier as- sured her. “‘We simply want to find out what is wrong with the sea terminal.” In- stinctively he was silent about George K. Lentz—nothing could be served in compli- cating the situation by further talk. The whole subject was precarious, and_ besides that Vida seemed outside the common en- gagement he had with Presby. What she had known she had regarded with a total lack of sympathy; she had been wholly unable to realize its transcending importance. “Tampico might be pleasant,” reflectively. ‘I'd like some bridge at more than a tenth of a cent. George Lentz plays very nicely and there is a Dutchman in the veranda, with she said Corona Company—he has an_ impossible name—who is really miraculous. We've played a set game for twenty-five cents, and he always carries me for the difference be- tween that and ten cents, my limit. It hasn’t cost him anything yet.’ Her voice and bearing, her words, bothered him. In almost no time at all she was leaving Presby, everything that was familiar; she was coming to him; and still, in the few min- utes they had left together before the waiting difficulties and of that consummation, she was talking about bridge and _ ridiculous trifles of money. Govett Bradier was uncomfori le “My dear Vida,” he admitted, “you are very placid about it all. Will you stay a few days at Tampico on your way North or come back to Chorreras first?” Vida was li-hting . cigaret, apparently she hadn't heard him asked if you were com- ing back to C tld, She begged him not to shout at her. Bradier was amazed, “But I didn’t, Vida; I only repeated a question. I wanted to know your plans. That’s reasonable enough.” That, she said, was extremely pleasant of him: “And quite new. You haven't troubled much till now. I mean you have gone ahead with your own arrangements, you and Presby, without the slightest reference to me. Any one would have thought I was Gille. You see, bridge, with a Dutchman, at least enter- tains me. He leaned forward in his chair and lightly touched her hand. “Vida, I believe we are quarreling. That was the only thing we needed to make our—our position perfect Ile had started to say love, but, in the face of her indifference, it had been impossible. leavens, no,” she replied; “just a differ- ent opinion isn’t a quarrel. I'd do that with- out words, Govett. It would be more in your own method. Or the method I understood was yours. I must say I haven’t seen anything that was like your reputation for brutality. But there was the Indian you were for treat- ing with hot oil. I'm afraid I did you an injustice.” ‘The truth is,” he said directly, “that you 1 wouldn’t mind if we had time, now; but we haven't; I'll be going in fifteen minutes. Vida, think what it will be like when we're together, when we wont have to leave each other. ‘The days and the nig chts.” He was possessed by a return of his choking desire for her, the realization of her extra- ordinary provocative charm. Bradier re minded himself that her love, her future, be- longed to him. He had been stupid in that he hadn’t kept the importance of Vida separate from interests either inferior or completely different. He didn’t know which and he didn’t care. There were a great many small practical things to be remembered ibout women. ; “I haven’t been nasty,” she broke into his (Continued on page 158) are being nasty

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ing Prepared to shop for or with clients in Paris dur- ATHARINE KAELRED commutes to Paris—reg- ularly — selecting for your individual requirements the most advanced creations of leading Couturiers. GOWNS — WRAPS-— SUITS SPORTS WEAR and ACCES- SORIES made for you in Paris from linings carefully fitted here. Just Arrived From Paris Hats and Sport Things for Summer Wear—and Exclu- sive Gowns for the Bride’s Trousseau. ‘ Ira Jire in Mee! 2d) May, June and July. New York Shop—30 West 51st Street TAM Joseph Hergesheimer’s (Continued fi thoughts; “though I didn’t mind your saying it. At least you sounded positive.” Silence enveloped her; she smoked and gazed tran- quilly over the dark blue water of the Gulf. A feeling of helplessness, of having been deliberately ill-treated, purposely misunder- stood, assaulted him. It seemed that he could say nothing that was right; his emotion was changed into a heavy and disturbed and vague unhappiness. Govett Bradier wanted to im- plore her to understand him, to realize that everything he’d said had been prompted by his love for her. He rose and went close to her. “Vida, come into the hall with me, just for a second; before I go. We will be alone there.” She was, Vida answered, in no mood for halls; he seemed to think they were eighteen again and planning to live on kisses. To this he answered that he had no intention of living without them. “T’ll have to go,” he continued. “I ought to be on the launch now. You don’t look more than eighteen to me, Vida.” Resent- ment was gathering in him, but he resolutely kept it from his speech and bearing. ‘How dull!” she exclaimed; “I mean I hate very young girls and I am certain I’m not at all like one. It wasn’t a very impressive compliment—I really haven't reached the age when I need to be told I look young. He remarked that apparently it was im- possible for him to say anything that pleased her. Vida, in that event, advised him not to try. It occurred to Bradier that it would be an excellent thing to shake her, to pick Vida up by her beautifully round shoulders and shake he T until she was faint with weakness. *That might have been better,’ she told him at once; “what was it?” Bradier explained. MISS Hu (Concluded J On, Rupert closed the book of love. Nobody knew the difference but Meriel and Weir, though Meriel wondered what he would do if he ever read ina newspaper that the Gloria Mifflin who had ghes’s HARPER’S BAZAR PICO Novel rom page 150) “Perhaps,” she spoke reflectively. “But it hasn’t been tried since I was six. It wasn’t very successful then His affection receded. “TH be at the Imperial,” he informed her; ‘“‘ask Presby to telephone the office the day you are coming, It will be up the Lagoon, of course. HE nodded, and he turned away reluc- tantly, slowly descending the veranda steps. At any moment, he thought, Vida would stop him with a word, an admission that she was sorry to lose him even for a little while. The conviction she would do this was so strong that he hesitated, looking up at her inquir- ingly, but without response. From below he could see her graceful legs, and she drew her skirt, as far as possible, around them. Aside from that, he thought, for her, he had gone. As he walked away he was conscious of the slight grinding his shoes made on the path. What had Vida, with her distant air, meant? It was probably no more than a passing dis- turbance of mind; but she had allowed it to overcome her at a singularly inappropriate time. She hadn’t very conspicuously con- sidered him or thought of how he might feel about going away from her. He was, as a result, more irritated than regretful: if his going meant so little to her he’d take good care to regard it with an equal indifference. He had no intention, at his age, of letting Vida make a sentimental fool of him. In the launch, for no apparent reason, he remembered the gesture with which she had drawn her skirt over her legs. That was a very unusual thing for Vida to have done, since she was without small pruderies. Quite the reverse. Such an act wasn’t instinctive, and because of that it was charged with an elusive significance. (To be continued in the June issue) MIFFLIN Story rom page 85) Meriel forgot her rabbity timidity and stood up and shrieked at her vanishing lover. She toppled across a fat man who pushed her into a lean woman. Dewey Weir written him that she had hied to a nunnery’ on his own hurricane-deck toppled across had really galloped off to the altar with a lean man who shunted him across a fat Hilary Tucker. Well, that was Mrs. Gloria woman. But still both cried in maddening Mifflin Tucker’s affair, not hers. diminue ndo: Late one gusty afternoon as she was riding “Oh, Miss Mifflin! Oh, Gloria!” up Fifth Avenue on top of a bus, and huddling “Oh, Lieutenant-commander Weir! Oh, a little closelier within herself than usual even, Dewey!” with her spinsterly shrinking from contact Everybody on all the busses, and down on with all mankind, Meriel heard some one the street and at all the windows, stared. shouting above the din, in a frantic crescendo: “Oh, Miss Mifflin! Oh, Gloria! Oh, Miss Mifflin!!!” Meriel had never heard anybody howl so loud in a New York street except some sour- voiced pedler of “sweet oranjiz! She looked about for Gloria and could not see her among the swaying wretches on any of the cluttered busses. But still the clamor rang, and almost in her ear: “Oh, Miss Mifflin! Oh, Gloria!” She glanced across the Avenue, and there on a downbound bus stood Lieutenant-commander But the two who hailed each other across a widening sea did not mind. They made their ways drunkenly to their respective stairways and fell off to the pavement, blocks apart in a maelstrom of humanity in which they could not find each other after all! But life is not perfect—not even in its failures and frustrations. There are ways of finding naval officers and when Mericl re- trieved hers, he said: “Oh, Miss Mifflin! convent after all!” My name is Meriel Shaylor,”’ she said, and confessed i in a gush of shame her evil doings. You didn’t go into a Weir, shrieking—and shrieking at her' At She vowed to enter a convent indeed if he did Meriel! Pointing straight to her and wailing: — not make the one right reply. He ma le it. “Oh, Miss Mifflin!’ It was a beautiful, wholesome, reassuring Could he have mixed the names? Could bromide: he have thought all the while that he was “IT can never remember a name. But I really writing to. Meriel? Of course he could _ never forget a face. And your name will be have! He must have! How wise and sweet life can be when it readjusts itself sometimes after it has been all bitterly awry! A WARDROBE F easy to remember when I change it to mine. Oh, Miss Mifflin! I mean, Miss Shaylor!! I mean, Mrs. Weir!!!” OR A WEEK-END Concluded from page 107) Spanish shawl. Renée makes them in deep baccarat renders indispensable. The rest ol jewel colors, emerald, ruby, or sapphire. I the space must be given to night things, should choose the color that matches the mules, and the absolutely essential lotior s and jewels you have, and repeat it in other acces- creams without which no woman with any sories as often as possible, flowers, heels, reputation to smartness would think of leav- handkerchief, and the evening purse which ing home. Marjorie How arp

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ZAR But vasn’t it the sby to for MAY 1926 ARGH IRIAN ESOC A 0 CE” aE > : » Sumaetans. m 2S AIOE BN BP ANOS REALE SCE IE IONEE OE GE LIEN LO NLS MEERA ELE ALOE AENEAN LONE SACLE AAO EEOC RENE: 8 Drices range from twelve to forty, dollars. swith Diamond sellings at pory- to one thousand dollars’ in the telling, may be stretched out indefinitely, or else, condensed into just three words. And what ring to express this story better than this— “The Juliet.” An exquisite design, delicately hand traced on gold or platinum. And named, of course, after the greatest of all lovers, since time began. She Oldest Story in the World... and the NEWEST of WEDDING RINGS Bowden rings, in this same enduring beauty, have been telling that old. old story since your grandmother’s time. Whispering unnamed things in the ageless language of ijove. \nd just so, perchance, it may some day whisper to you \CH one of these exquisite rings whispers an old, old story. THE JULIET engagement ring mounting matches the t is an ageless tale—a story that men have told since there Juliet wedding ring 1n its exquisite tracery. first were men: as r h- nN: 1eve _ . . . we e . - — Juliet ere men; a story that may never grow old... ! The story, From $16 to $25 in white gold. From $50 to $150 in platinum. nL... 7 BOWDEN WEDDING RINGS Standard since 1843 159

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160 No Hair Offends Where Neet Is Used He had never seen arms so wonderfully smooth—so free from hair. Her beauty fascinated him. Asshe saw his warm, admiring glance appraise the flawless beauty of her skin, she realized that atlast she had found the way to happiness. The blemish of hair had always spoiled her pleasure—made her conscious of this fault. Then she learned of Neet, the dainty hair-removing cream... . No other method ofre- moving hair is so rapid and convenient, so thorough and satisfactory. You sim- ply smooth this dainty cream on arms, underarms or legs and rinse away the un- sightly hair. Neet can be had in the ready-to-use liberal size 50 cent tubes at almostevery drug or department store. Simply ask for Neet. Accept no substitutes. HANNIBAL PHARMACAL CO., §T. LOUIS, MO. Very Special Ask your Nect dealer for IMMAC also. IMMAC is the dainty, white Cream Deodorant that rids under- arm perspiration of all odor and insures you per- sonal fragrance ( 1/ Ci Ss 9 C3/ ) 3 dd. Jhe Glave Ganda F ‘ CL new shoe creation by ANDREW GELLER that is Suoservient to every r - o~ P whim of Fashion seg Style brochure senton requesi- mude by ()\ ANDREWGELLER /(_ 1656 Broadway New York JN Made in Brooklyn Bi _— HARPER’S BAZAR FASHION The Countess of Oxford and Asquith’s Article (Continued from page ror) certain standards which men who are gentle- men will always observe. My friend Gilbert Russell told me his mother once said to him: “If you don’t marry a lady it will not matter very much; but be sure the woman you marry is a gentleman.’ With the exception of very few women I can truly say that I have seldom met a “gentleman” among my own sex. When I say a woman is “feminine,’”’ I mean she is spiteful, and even merciless. When a man says it, he means she is yielding or soft. Women may be truthful in the sense that they will not lie, but they are hardly ever candid. Accuracy is unknown to them, and a clear statement of fact is almost impossible to get out of a woman. Robert Lynd wrote of Jane Austen that she was: “‘A naturalist among tame animals.” ‘ An admirable description, but the animals must have been men, for women— like cats—are the only domestic animals impossible to tame. However expansive they may appear to be, there is a strong vein of reticence in women. They will tell you all about other people, but little about themselves; and except in matters of gossip, the intimacy which appears so close between one woman and another is tepid compared to that which exists between a man and a woman. OMEN are the cat-burzlars that Scotland Yard is looking for, and if you had had female detectives they would have been caught long ago. Anonymous letters are seldom written by men; and the campaign for woman’s suffrage would never have succeeded had not every Government in turn been exhausted by the courage, cruelty, and persistence of women. If dueling had been confined to women I very much doubt if it would not be in practise to-day; and who is gullible enough to suppose that physically they are less tough than men? Could any man have gone through what Florence Nightingale endured? I have known nurses to sit up for five or six nights in succes- sion when they have had what they call “‘a case’’ without turning a hair; and the night my mother died—after a long and anxious illness—I found both day and night nurse playing cards at three in the morning. The man who kills dragons is a mixture of muscle and mysticism. Women laugh at dragons and despise muscle, but they can smile away the confidence of any gladiator. They avoid straight contests and I doubt if the most vigilant umpire would prevent them from taking the buttons off the foils, or hitting below the belt. If what I have written seems severe, I will only ask what woman accused of crime, when given a choice by whom she would rather be tried—a male or female jury— would hesitate in her reply? We know with- out question that her answer would be in favor of the male. Nor can we forget that special seats were reserved for the vestal virgins in the gladiatorial contests of ancient Rome. This brings me to my original thesis. Women are on the defensive, and I never heard of a man bringing an action for breach of promise against my sex. In spite of all the tracts, the trousers, and the talk, women know that their natural protectors are men, and having this knowledge it is wiser for them—quite apart from physical reasons to engage their attention and enlist them on their side Fashion more than anything else contributes to this instinct. I do not agree with Jane Austen who says: “Men only can be aware of the insensibility of man to a new gown. It would be mortify ing to the feelings of many ladies could they be made to understand how little the heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire; how littke it is biased by the texture of their muslin, and how unsusceptibl: of peculiar tenderness toward the spotted, the sprigged, the mull or the jaconet. Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone. No man will admire her the more, no woman will lik her the better for it. Neatness and fashion are enough for the former. and a something of shabbiness or impropriety will be most endearing for the latter.” Or a certain type of man this is true, but generally speaking, if men are not of the company, the woman who wishes to outshine a rival siren will not take much trouble about her appearance. I think it is a duty women owe not only to themselves, but to everyone else to dress well, and life would be much duller and less informative if it were not for changes in adornment. When it was considered vulgar to eat and refined to swoon, the ladies of the day wore crinolines and the men wore whiskers. Crino- lines were not only an armor against all assault but a barrier which prevented them from taking part in any pursuit more manly and dangerous than croquet. The lady having exposed her bust in the days of short waists, now concealed her person in a network of whale-bone which made it extravagant if not indecent even to show an ankle. The very mention of the word “leg” was considerei| so indecorous that little children were incased in drawers whose frills extended from a voluminous skirt to the elastics upon their insteps. The fashion for hoops had passed before my day, but I remember once at Glen, when looking over the staircase to see the company going in'to dinner, my Aunt Marion—a lady of whimsical nature and an _eccentric—ap- peared in a vast crinoline of daffodil satin elaborated by festoons of black Spanish lace which on any one else would have been extremely becoming. Tracing the fashions from colored plates and hearsay, the exposure of the bust in the days of Napoleon was succeeded by the con- cealment of the figure in the brave days of Bath, and at the time of my début the skirts, though still long, were clinging in the front but fanciful at the back. In the place of the bustle we had wires which were tied below the hips to sustain waterfalls of flounces which gave an effect of freedom to those who were proficient in the valse or the polka. The décolletage of the Court were sleeves off the shoulder, which are still pretty for people whose anatomy will bear inspection. Either the men of that period were different from the men of to-day, or the present female attracts less attention, for if any woman had dared to define her bustle or expose her calves at any time before the last few years she would have been ostracized. It has been said by Mr. Arthur Ponsonby that with the dis- appearance of whiskers men have become:less masculine, but be this as it may, it is difficult to see to what further lengths women in the future can go to attract their attention. There was a picture in Punch of a pretty young woman trying to control her petticoats going over a stile in a wind with a man looking on. The man said, “Bless your soul, miss, don’t bother!—legs ain’t no treat to me, I’ve been a bus conductor for ten years!”” Whether legs are a treat to the masculine sense to-day or not I can not say, but treats to. be enjoyed should not be overdone, and the time will soon arrive when, as objects of attraction, skirts as short as kilts may be discarded. N THE insect world I am told the male is smaller than the female; if this is accurate it is the only example of a similar insignifi- cance. The peacock, the pheasant, the eagle, the robin, and other birds far outshine in color and display their drabber consorts, and you have only got to visit the Zoo to see how much more beautiful the male is than th female. Nor can I believe that animals woul demean themselves by parting with any of their natural adornment. I can not see them cropping their hair, or wearing false fur, or false feathers. The fashion of the present day is what is called “the Eton crop,” and __festooning the chest with large imitation pearls. Women with neither backs nor tops to their heads, and faces as large as hams, appear at the King’s Drawing-rooms with the nugque of their necks blue from shaving, and either the brains or the headgear have undergone a tremendous change in the feminine world, but I cannot buy a hat that will cover the top of my head. When I protest against strings of pearls as yellow as old teeth decorating my friend’s chest the lady assures me, “It is amusing!” which confirms me in the suspicion that my sex has an unreliable sense of humor. It is difficult to account for the vagaries ot fashion, but with the disappearance of the corset there has been a change so marked and complete that it is impossible to exaggerate its significance. Veils, gloves, and stays being no longer in vogue, it is supposed that women who are by nature sporting—have become more proficient in games and sport; but from what I hear from friends in the hunting field, and judging by the loose horses with out riders upon them that I see in Rotten Row the stayless do not ride any better than they did in my day: and although riding astride has dated a habit skirt almost as much as the name of “Alma” dated a woman in the ‘eighties, Nature having given my sex round as against flat thighs makes it difficult for them to avoid having—what I constantly observe in modern riders—a very impartial seat. To turn for a moment to a personal matter, I will divulge the only contribution I ever made to fashion. Having been several times hung on my head by my habit-skirt in falls out hunting— which would have cost me my life had my early mounts been anything but faded hire- lings—I conceived the idea of an apron-skirt, sewn into the right-hand seam of my riding breeches, and fastened by an elastic going over the heel of my left boot. My habit- maker, a Scotchman of enterprise, was 4e- lighted with the idea, and after many fittings sent my new habit down to Melton. (Continued on page 162)

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tcle it if not he very isidere«| incased from a yn their | before n, when ompany ~a lady riC—ap- il satin ish lace e been | plates t in the he con- days of 4 skirts, ie front ‘ off the e whose ifferent female an had r calves ars she en said the dis- me less difficult in the pretty tticoats looking |, miss, 1e, I’ve Vhether to-day njoyed ill soon kirts as male is ccurate signifi- > eagle, tine in ts, and ee how an the ; would! any of e them fur, or vhat is ooning Vomen heads, at the of their er the rone a ld, but he top strings yrating “Tt is spicion 1umor ries of of the ed and ate its being women ecome t from x field, riders w the ey did le has as the n the round ilt for tantly partial 1atter, [ ever n my ting— id my | hire- -skirt, iding going habit- is de- ttings for mee i Niagara Falls, New York Niagara Falls, Canada HH. & 1926 MAY ARV ey ) Ly iT UV Whey WF } fit tg) ute Ladi Paris Presents the Molded Silhouette Spirella Provides the Correct Foundation for It To be smartly groomed this Spring— to look well in the fitted frocks decreed by Paris—wear the new Spirella bras- siere-girdle. An innovation in figure training garments, specially designed for the woman who keeps pace with the mode. The new Spirella is a form-fitting, com- bination brassiere-girdle, semi-attached, but so designed as to give a graceful, unbroken line both front and back. This newest Spirella is merely one of many Spirella figure training and sup- HOME SERVICE porting garments, which follow the contour of your figure, bringing out your best lines and smoothing away all irregularities. Spirella gives you that confident assurance which comes only to those who know they have an at- tractive appearance. Spirella garments are so flexible and easy, you do not realize you have one on. This is due to the design, to the fine, soft fabrics used and to the pat- ented Spirella stay which yields to every movement. EXCLUSIVELY Spirella 1S different > F I a 2 h-hh & CO MPAN I | a Letchworth, England Malmo, Sweden 3 _ The Spirella | Stay The Spirella Stay is used exclusively in Spirella garments. It bends easily back- ward and forward and sidewise. It follows readily every movement of the body. It will not take a permanent bend or push through the material and it is guaranteed not to break or rust. The flexible Spirella Stay not only permits full muscular play, || but insures a shape-retaining garment. T / s Fs * —_— Recognition Wherever Spirella has been presented, it has been awarded first honors by the world’s highest fashion and medical author- ities, including the Exposition de Paris. Spirella is Different Spirella figure training garments are de- signed along anatomical lines to meet in- dividual physical requirements. The flex- ible Spirella stay permits each garment to do the work the designer intended. A Spirella is so comfortable and easy that you will wear it all the time. It works in unison with the muscles of the body, per- mitting ease and grace of movement and giving upward and backward support to the abdomen, with spinal support and flesh control wherever necessary. There is no constriction at the waist. No crowding or binding to interfere with the functions of the vital organs or to retard circula- tion, A trained Corsetiere measures you, orders for you the garment that will care for your individual needs, and shows you how to wear it. You get just the garment that will make you look best and feel best. The Spirella Company Inc., Niagara Falls, N. Y. Without obligating me, please send further informa- tion about Spirella, with the name and address of a Corsetiere. Your Name . Address. - We have openings for women of the highest type, as Corsetieres. If you would like to recommend anyone, we shall be glad to correspond with her and train her. U Naik this Coupon today

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You may es have a free copy by writing your name and address upon this adver- ' tisement or just writing to Depart- ‘ 4 ment 21, gr8 Greenwich Street, New ork C a a $ 15 on East of the Mississippi At the better hardware and department 7 ’ stores, or direct from a The JACOBS BROS. CO.,Inc. © Makers of Perfection Springless - Baby Scales aye Scale Makers Since 1900 Be Dept. 21, 318 Greenwich St., oe New York, N. Y. | - = . FA ; ina Ewe a4 > xe 2a A Beauty Secret that may be yours! con p———- 10c Package FREE »n below is for your in requesting us to coum rence send you free a 1oc package of Ta . > otk . a Del-a-tone or Del-a-tone Cream. ILLIONS already know how easy ee ee ee ee and simple every vestige of un- the results and will become a » per nent user. wanted hair can be removed by the use of wonder-working Del-a-tone. Friend tells friend; it has been so for nearly twenty years. Methods of removing hair have come and gone, but old reliable Del-a-tone has remained the favorite. The reason is easy to explain. It does its work so safely, so effectively, so pleas- antly, so much quicker! Apply, rinse after a few minutes, hair all gone; skin white and vel- vety smooth. Whether used on the face, arms, limbs, or to keep necks, in this bobbed-hair age, trim and clean, the same thorough satis- factory results are certain. Your Choice—Del-a-tone Cream Del-a-tone (powder) For your convenience, druggists and all good toilet counters now grant a choice—old reliable Del-a-tone (powder) or or the newer Del-a-tone Cream. The results are the same whichever you choose. Del-a-tone Cream is the only pure, snow-white fragrant depilatory cream. You will like it. Insist on the old reliable DEL-A-TONE Removes Hair At Drug or Department Stores or sent prepaid anywhere in U. 5 ,in plain wrapper, for one dollar—an economy State whether you wish Del-a-tone or Del-a-tone Cream Tue DeLatone COMPANY Dept. 625, 536 Lake Shore Drive hicago, Ill ” allah delist nsteeirtinaiacha seaglagihciny nlaaincie tua cotmcaumaaaaas i Send this coupon for 10c Package FREE & The Delatone Company 4 Dept. 625, 536 Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Il. FREE ‘ Please send me FREE, prepaid and in plain wrapper, TRIAL & the 106 Lane have checked herewith Jel-a-tone (powder) (©) Del-a-tone 4 ‘ q Name ' ‘ Address ’ ' ' ' ' Cream ' ' ' ' ' . HARPER’S BAZAR FASHION The Countess of Oxford and Asquith’s Article (Continued from page 160) I had not been long in Leicestershire and had only made friends with a few elderly pleasant old sportsmen, but I had already given offense by discarding the tightly button- ed-up habit-bodice for a long loose covert- coat over a double-breasted waistcoat, and I wore a wide silk double-tie instead of the fashionable stand-up collar. There were other little things that had worried my stable- companions. I was breathlessly alive and possessed four accomplished hunters upon which I could take my own line; added to which I was constantly given a mount by the great and popular dealer, Mr. Sam Hames of Leicester. The lady who rode best at the time I went to Leicestershire was the Duchess of Hamilton, but she had broken her arm, and lived on the Market Harboro’ side of the county. Her courage was so great that it did not prevent her from going out hunting, but I never saw her in her great days. Beyond the Irish dealer—Captain Steed—and Bay Middleton, I saw very little jealousy in Leicestershire, but there was a great deal of prejudice over matters of dress and equipment. The rumor had spread that I had invented a new habit-skirt, and innovations are never popular. RRIVING at the meet on my best hunter, and in my new riding-habit, I was greeted by a lady w ho in her younger days had capti- vate -d the hearts of all the famous beaux. “Well, Miss Tennant,” she said, “‘is it true that in future we are all to wear habit-skirts made of an apron for fear of falling on our heads? Riding with the audacity that you do no doubt makes this a necessity, but I do not think you will succeed in getting any of us to follow you. As the lady in question never jumped a fence I felt she had laid herself open to a personal rebuff, but I was not spiteful, and contented myself by asking her why she thought a safety skirt would be unpopular. To which she replied: “If you imagine any of us are going to show our legs you make a great mistake—there are some things that no lady will do, and that is one of them.” I said: “Don’t you like my riding-habit? The lady. ‘“‘No one looks neater out hunt- ing than you do, Miss Tennant, but since that is so, why do you wish to make yourself con- spicuous? I am a great deal older than you are, and have hunted in the shires for longer than I care to confess, but we are not going to show our legs; nor do I see the necessity, if you are a good rider, of being dragged upon ay head.” the hounds were moving off and my *... was in a frenzy of excitement, I said no more to her. When the first spurt was over we pottered about trying to pick up the scent. While waiting for information from a farmer as to whether a neighboring earth had been stopped or not, I approached the lady who was on the road waiting for her second horse. After looking round to see that we were alone I asked her if she liked my new habit: ““T have already told you, my dear, that I don’t object to the loose coat, though perhaps it is not very feminine—I can only tell you that your advanced ideas of starting an apron instead of a skirt will a meet with the approval of any one in the hunting field. | amazed her by telling her that the habit I was wearing was the offending garment; and jumping off my horse, showed her how very little leg was exposed between the end of the long coat and the top of my riding boots. I felt rather uneasy when I had done this in case I should be unable to mount myself, but I was rewarded by her surprise and approval; she even consented to hold my rein while I struggled on to my horse which was sixteen hands high and extremely captious. Before the season was over there was not a lady in the hunting-field that did not wear the double-tie and the apron-skirt, and my habit- maker told me the new invention brought him a steady income of over £3,000 a year. When I said fashion changed not only our clothes, but our figures and our faces, you have only got to observe the beauties painted by Gainsborough to see how con- tracted and oval both the shoulders, waists, and faces were at that time, in comparison with the contours of our beauties of to-day. It may be that athletics and hygiene have thickened both the bones and the muscles, but it seems strange that at a time when women compete with men in games and sport that the skirts are worn as tight as they are to-day. They may be chic, but they are not = practical. » have no equivalent in English for the m. ) ‘chic,’ but we all know what it means. To define it roughly I should say ‘“‘chic” is the talent of foreseeing and forestalling fashion and expressing it by your clothes in | the most refined and restrained manner. | There is nothing more formidable than | moderation in what is new and likely to | attract attention. The other French word | which will give the best definition of the reverse of “chic” is to say a woman’s clothes are “‘endimanché.”’ The English translation of this word is cumbrous, but expresses the same idea as “ Sunday-go-to-meeting.”” Good dressmakers avoid elaboration: buttons that button nothing, bows that tie nothing are meaningless and should be avoided; and to be well-dressed you should not appear to have made any effort. R. WORTH, the great dressmaker of my youth, told me that what first attracted him to Paris—where he spent the whole of his life—was seeing how badly the young Parisians in the society of that day were dressed, and he foresaw a great opening for any one who had the wits and taste to alter this. It seems strange that we have to borrow the two words most descriptive of clothes—‘‘chic” and ““endimanché’’—from a foreign language; but as the French will always lead the fashion in clothes, it is only fair that they should be the interpreters of what they create. Nations, like people, have special talents and capacities and no one will ever be able to compete with France in cooks, coiffeurs, or clothes. To give a concrete example of fashion, beauty, and adornment, I recall a ceremonial occasion when Queen Alexandra—then the Princess of Wales—held the annual Court Concert, an entertainment no longer given at Buckingham Palace. We had all taken our places and were gazing at the royal dais upon which sat the Prince and Princess of Wales, Princess Christian, the Duchess of Argyll, Princess Beatrice, Prince Eddy, Prince George—our present King—and other mem- bers of the royal family. After a profound curtsy Albani was holding her music in her hand ready to begin singing when there was a pause. The Duchess of Leinster, having arrived late, had had to wait till the royal party had taken up their positions. To get to her seat she was obliged to pass in front of the dais, at all times em- barrassing, and in those days when you had to curtsy not only to the Prince and Princess of Wales, but to the whole royal family, an ordeal few could have faced. Queen Alexan- dra—always the kindest of women—had, unknown tc us, given the signal to pause, and mystified, we all sat and waited. FTER Queen Alexandra and the Grand Duchess Serge, Hermione Leinster was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. If her features were not as perfect, her presence was more distinguished than Mrs Langtry’s; and though lacking the pathos of Lady Eden’s wonderful face she had a more welcoming expression, and I had never met the beautiful Lady Dudley. All eyes were turned upon her as she swept into the great ballroom. She wore a dress of white satin, cut in the fashion of the day, which was called “princess.’’ This was made in a single piece, from the sleeves off the shoulder to the hem of the skirt, and clung as closely to the figure as a riding-habit. Three diamond bows varying in size from a large one defining the bust, to a smaller one ~~ the waist, relieved her dress from an excess of simplicity, and the bottom of the skirt was trimmed with a full ruche of white ostrich feathers. On one side her decorations clasped the Prince of Wales’ feathers standing erect, and on the other you saw the beauty of bare shoulder. She wore no jewels on her neck, but heavy bands of diamonds encircled her hair, which was caught up behind in a Greek knot. As the tiaras of that day were fashioned like fenders this was a daring innovation After watching her bend her knees eleven times I came to the conclusion that curtsying is not always a sign of subservience, but in the Duchess of Leinster was a gesture ol challenge When that enthralling moment had passed, the music and the company seemed to be mere echoes, and we looked down absently at our programs. ; Although there are many pretty faces in the society of the present day, deportment is not observed. Shoulders contract, and chins protrude, and there is a uniformity in hats and outline that makes it difficult to distinguish between one beauty and another. : I remember asking a sporting friend ol mine if he admired Lady Claude Hamilton; to which he replied: “By Jove, don’t I! the Row is like seeing a beautiful ho “= its feet.’ The fashion of holding oneself well has not been kept up. which is strange, as the dan a of the day depends more upon the pose of t body than the activity of the feet The greater change I have seen and the quickest has been the transformation of the ballrooms. There have always been the same crowded rooms and clumsy movers, but whereas, in my middle age, as well as in my earls youth, the valsing needed extreme activity and much practice, the dancing of to-day exacts 4 (Concluded on page 166) to see her walk down ind set

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164 Women who make a cult of beauty know the secret of givin their hair its own richest Aa radiance. It is simply a touch of henna in the shampoo, ‘The clear liquid of HENNAFOAM SHAMPOO contains just the right touch of henna to Rien out all the natu- ral lustre in every type of hair. If you cannot obtain Hennafoam Shampoo ‘om your dealer, send sixty cents to Hennafoam Corporation, 511 West gand Street, New York HENNAFOAM SHAMPOO, MONOGRAM | GLASSWARE FOR THE TABLE with your own initials Exquisite glassware with a personal touch that enhances its distinc- tiveness. A complete series is offered, of which the following are examples. Prices are per dozen but single pieces may also be ordered. 10%-INCH SERVICE PLATE. Crystal, plain monogram, $50; Amber or Green, plain monogram, $58; Crystal, colored monogram, $55. BOUILLON CUP. Crystal, plain monogram, $24; Amber or Green, plain mono- gram, $31; Crystal, colored monogram, $31. PLATE FOR BOUILLON CUP. Crystal, plain monogram, $24; Amber or Green plain monogram, $29; Crystal, co ored monogram, $29. COCKTAIL GLASS. Crystal, plain monogram, $24; monogram, $31; Crystal, colored monogram, $31. GOBLET. Crystal, plain monogram, $27; Amberor Green, plain monogram, $34; Crystal, colored monogram, $34. Write for catalog of Monogram Glassware, including Smokers’ Accessories Send order and THE CAN-DLE-LUXE SHOP Amber or Green, plain check to (CANDLES OF QUALITY) 588-H Madison Avenue, New York Distributors apply to Kay & Ellinger, Inc., 30 Irving Place, New York al ee Black Satin, self or/Nowe trim \, Patent Kid, selfor Black ana \ Gold Lizardtrin. Parclunent rey dizara, Kid trin. Kid, Chhite Patent COhkeen-Sifly Mam Jean sien SHORT VAMP SHOES (856 US. PAT. OFF) 6 West 37» Street off 5th Ave.,New York or Green Pin Seal tim. HARPER’S BAZAR LITERARY AT LAST Anita Lees’s Story (Continued from page 67) the other literary people how they ought to do it. And they are the ones who have luncheon every day at the Algonquin and they really know how literary people ought to act. I mean, after all, it is no wonder, because they spend practically all their time showing how literary people ought to act. So I went down to the dining room before it became luncheon time, so that I could see them actually walk in. And I thought that the best way to get a table near their table, would be to become friendly with a waiter. So this waiter’s name is Tony and I told Tony that I wished to have a small size table near the table where all the geniuses eat. So he gave me the nearest table of all, and then we held a conversation and it all came out that he is full of ideals too. I mean the more I see of everybody the more I seem to realize that you never know who you are talking to. Because Tony told me him- self, that a man’s body may be only a Greek waiter, but his soul may be full of all the culture of the ancient Greeks. Because this Greek waiter was raised to be a gentleman. I mean his father also had a son that was legitimate, and he put them both together and educated them in all of the classics. But this was after he became a half orphan, because Tony’s father became quite fed up with Tony’s mother and he got his best friend, who happened to be a Turkish gentle- man, to arrange it so that his mother would be present at an atrocity. Because the Turks are famous all over Europe for their atrocities and Tony thinks it is the result of prohibition. Because the Turks have always had prohibition and when things begin to get on a Turk’s nerves, he can not go out and have a drink and forget it, but he finally reaches the point where he has to do something violent in a hurry. And Tony says that every day when he reads all the novel kind of murders we Americans are thinking up on the front page of the Daily Graffic, he thinks we Americans are getting to remind him quite a lot of the Turkish. So that is what gave him the idea that atrocities are really the result of prohibition. So I told Tony to be sure and tell me when the geniuses started to come in, and then he said it was a good thing I got him to be my waiter because he knows all about them. I mean he waits on their table too, and they are really very fond of him because most waiters are more interested in tips than they are in listening to geniuses talk, and the waiter they used to have was a low Greek from Sardanapolis who had no interest in culture. But Tony does nothing but keep his ears open and he even hears more than the geniuses do, because they themselves are so busy thinking up what they are going to say next, that they do not have so much time to do any listening. So Tony says that sometimes it gets to be quite romantic, because one of the geniuses is always falling in love with some new girl. And when a genius falls in love with a lady genius, as Tony says, “there is h— to pay” because he cannot go off and have an affair and keep his mouth shut like a waiter, but he has to talk it all over with his wife and they have to look it up in psychoanalysis and then they have to talk it all over with all the other geniuses, and they never get to any conclusion on the subject. So then Dorothy came in to have luncheon with me and I became quite upset because when it is luncheon time Dorothy’s mind al- ways seems to run on the subject of food. I mean literature means even less to Dorothy at luncheon time than it does at any other time. So I told her to sit down and have her luncheon, but to leave me to my own thoughts. So then the geniuses started to come in and Tony told me that the first one was Joel Crabtree who is the critic who writes about all the new books and he goes into rapsodies every time one of his friends writes one. I mean it makes Mr. Crabtree feel very, very good to have everybody think that his friends are greater geniuses than anybody else’s friends. ND Tony says that the day never goes by that Mr. Crabtree does not mention every one of his friends in his literary column. And then they all mention him in their literary column so that anybody who bothers to read all the columns can tell just what they are all doing any hour of the day or night. So Dorothy said “Why don’t they hire a window at Sax and do it in there?” So I told Dorothy if she would keep her mind on her chicken hash it would do her more good than asking any such question as that about her betters. So then a very, very famous critic of the drama came in called Harry Masterson, and it is his job to discover girls who remind him of Duse. And it is really quite difficult be- cause if you discover a girl, she naturally has to be quite young, and when a girl is so young she never seems to have as much technique as Duse had. But Mr. Masterson always overlooks that point, if the girl j cute enough in other ways. Because there is nothing that this great critic of the drama loves so much as an actress, or even an actor, being cute. And Dorothy said, “I could take him up to Ned Wayburn’s infant dancing class and show him a whole room full of Duses.” So even Tony gave Dorothy quite « harsh look. _So Tony told me that he loves to write to his cousin at Athens, and tell his cousin that waiting on Mr. Masterson is just the same as if he was waiting on Sofoclees. Because Tony says he has to tell his cousin in terms that he can understand because his cousin is an ignorant fellow and he would no more know that Mr. Masterson was a famous genius at the Algonquin than Mr. Masterson would know that Sofoclees was a famous genius at Greece. So finally all the geniuses were present and then the conversation began and to say that I kept my ears open would really be putting it quite mildly. And the way they talk about each other all the time is really an education in itself. I mean it is wonderful the way the conversation works out. Because, for in- stance, first Mr. Crabtree will say to Mr. Masterson “ What was that screamingly funny thing you said last Tuesday?’”’ So then Mr. Masterson tells it and then they all laugh, And then it becomes Mr. Masterson’s turn to say to Mr. Crabtree, “And what was that terribly clever remark you made on Friday?” So then Mr. Crabtree gets his chance. I mean it is all give and take, and everybody gets an opportunity to talk about himself. And it would really be a good thing if all those ‘‘so called’’ literary gentlemen at Mr. Nathan’s party would go and listen to the Algonquin critics give a lesson in how to hold a conversation. So at this point, Mr. Ernest Boyd came in to luncheon and planted himself right down at their table and he had no right to be there because he was the one who sang some songs at Mr. Nathan’s party that were anything but literary. And I was surprised that any- body as unintellectual as that could appre- ciate the kind of conversation they hold at the Algonquin. But it is quite unusual, because he seems to enjoy it more than any- body else and he laughs louder than anyone. I mean he even laughs when nobody else does. So it turned out that he is writing a book about them, but I, for one, will not bother to read it because it is sure to be full of nothing but misunderstanding. So most of the conversation took place when they all told the story of how several of them all made a famous trip to Europe one time. It seems they had a very marvelous time because everywhere they went they would sit in the hotel all day and play games and tell reminiscences about the Algonquin. So I think it is wonderful to be so full of mental resources that you can always have a delightful time and do not have to bother with looking up anything new, even ‘when you are traveling in foreign lands. So they did not bother to meet anybody in Europe. Because somebody gave them a letter to a gentleman called Anatole France, who used to be alive, but they did not bother with meeting him because, after all, Anatole France did not know who they were. And why bother to meet anybody who knew so little about American culture that he prob- ably thought “Algonquin” meant a tribe of uncivilized Indians. So then Mr. Boyd spoke up and Mr. Boyd said “Why did you not meet that fellow France? I've heard it rumored about Europe that he had something to say.” So that remark was really worthy of no one but Dorothy. I mean I really do not know why the geniuses at the Algonquin should bother to learn about Europe any more than Europe seems to bother to learn about them. So Mr. Masterson answered Mr. Boyd and said that they had learned their lesson about meeting strange people when they met 4 gentleman in Paris called Mr. James Joyce who did not get what they were talking about half the time, and did not even laugh when they were all telling the cute things that happened once to Lola Crabtree’s cat. So then Mr. Masterson said that they begaa to get quite fed up with Paris because all the Americans were going home and hardly any- body around the Dome café knew who they were. So then they all came back very, very refreshed at learning all about Europe, but they really like the Algonquin best after @ because of course everybody at the Algonquin knows who they are. And I think it wonderful because everybody always remem- bers the old proverb about the Prophet who was without honor in his own home. But with them it seems to be just the reverse. So then Dorothy said that she had heard enough intellectual conversation for one day and she was going to hunt up a boy Irien of hers who only mentions himself when he (Concluded on page 100) fo

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ZAR Tasterson le girl js his great ch as an ) Write to usin that > Same as use Tony s that he in is an ore know yenius at nm would yenius at ‘sent and say that > putting lk about ducation way the for in- n to the ¢ to hold came in ht down be there ne songs inything hat any- 1 appre- hold at unusual, lan any- anyone. dy else riting a will not > be full k place veral of ope one arvelous it they y games onquin. - full of ys have » bother n “when nybody them a France, t bother Anatole And ‘new so e prob- tribe of r. Boyd fellow Europe so that me but >w why bother Europe yyd and n about met 4 s Joyce talking n laugh things $ cat. y began all the ly any- 10 they y, very pe, but fter all ronquin k it is remem- et who But rse. | heard ne day frien hen he for MAY 1926 (urved to fit the contours of a woman’s form JURVED to kiss away—safely, swiftly, gently—even the faint- est shadow of superfluous hair. Curved to reveal the satin nudity of suave, white skin, rounding to each inward and out- ward contour of underarm and limbs. The curve in CURVFIT Razor makes it the only safe razor ever designed exclusively for use on the tender skin of women. The curve permits CURVFIT to be used the moment before the costume is worn —. wherever the costume requires. That is why CURVFIT, for thousands of well-groomed women, is already a necessity of the toilette. A TYPE FOR EVERY WOMAN NICKEL-PLATED, with 1 blade . $1.00 GOLD-PLATED, with 12 blades; in- . cluding Gold-plated Box.and Satin- lined Jeweler’s Case . oie GOLD-PLATED, with Pearl Handle and 12 blades;. including Pearl Blade Box and imported Leather Beadit Cate. ok Be G7.50 GOLD-PLATED, with 12 blades ; in- cluding Gold-plated Blade Box and Velvet Satin-lined Jeweler’s Case . . $4.00 EXTRA BLADES, the dozen . . $1.00 | If you cannot obtain the genuine CURVFIT from your dealer, choose the type which best Suits your taste andsend the price specified to CURVFIT PRODUCTS CO., Ine. 71 West 23rd Street, New York, N. Y. $3.50 a“ 165 Womans Razor

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Obtainable at: PENN DELPHIA BOOT SHOPS 515 Madison Avenue, New York 31 West 50th Street, New York Dewees, 1124 Chestnut Street, Phila. Aquilla Court, 1619 Howard St., maha Ross Bros., 798 Market Street, San Francisco or lry mail to your mecasurcment ©F tan Russian calf and galushia fash- ioned to blend with all spring colors. Nothing can be more correct than this smart A shoe for the tailleur or semi-formal wear. When the finest cost but a quarter for twenty— Why not Smoke the Finest: WALE LON DON CIGARETTES 25¢ FOR TWENTY TO BE HAD ite SF The TRAVEL SERVICE of HARPER’S BAZAR has assembled an amazing amount of information for you. Fascinating booklets, rates and data on all forms of travel may be had for the | asking. Check which one of the following suggestions ap peals to you; or if you have some definite plan in mind Per- haps we can submit plans write to us about it. and suggestions that will save you no end of time and bother. \re you interested in: \ Summer Cruise; pean travel; Pacific Coast; Hawaii; the National Parks; \laska; Fashionable Resort Hotels (Mountains or Sea- Euro- shore); Quiet Ranch, a Camp. Write to places, a Miss ADELINE SNAPP The TRAVEL SERVICE of HARPER’S BAZAR 383 Madison Avenue New York City HARPER’S BAZAR HOW TO CHOKE A CAT TO DEATH WITHOUT Irvin S. that I just had to ring you up to tell you.” ““Humphphe-e-e!”” Mr. Golightly got his breath back, as a diver emerging from an ice- water bath might. “Did you say grateful to me?” “Of course, you dear old stupid! It seems —listen to this, Ephie—it seems that Mr. Pewter-Walsberg saw a copy of that adorable magazine on the newsstand this morning and saw your name on the cover and bought it out of curiosity and he read what it said about you and he was so delighted with it that he didn’t wait until to-night to show it to her— Mrs. Pewter-Walsberg, I mean. He came right on uptown with it and read it to her. And she says—they both say, in fact—it took a great strong silent resolute man like you to see that the trend of the day is for democracy; and that it’s high time the lower orders who aren't in society should know that there are no barriers to keep out those who rise by their own efforts from humble beginnings, but just the other way around; and that when ordinary people find out how far you’ve climbed—your position in business and our position in society and all—it’s calculated to make them more satisfied with their lot and keep down anarchy and socialism and all such dreadful USING BUTTER Cobb’s (Concluded from page 77 Story things. And she says Mr. Pewter-Walsberg will take it as a very great favor if you can arrange for these clever magazine people to interview him next—it seems they started forty years ago without a cent out in Illinois or some such outlandish place. Think of it, dear—a man like Herbert Pewter-Walsberg, with a hundred and fifty millions behind him —asking for a favor from you! Isn’t it just too wonderful? .... Hold the wire, Ephie, the girls are here waiting to congratulate you on being so smart in their behalf and to beg your pardon, as I do, for being so sort of ex- cited like we all three were last night. But they didn’t understand then, and neither did I. But now we do, and we do so appreciate it all—you splendid brilliant shrewd old dar- ling, you! Ephie dearest, tell me this—how did you ever come to figure out such a marvelous stroke of genius all by your- self?” “Marie,” answered Mr. Golightly, and, as he answered, his chest expanded perceptibly and brushed against the edge of his desk, “if you’d been in the pressed brick game as long as I have, you’d know there are several ways of killing a cat besides choking it to death with butter.” IN THE JUNE NUMBER OF HARPER’S BAZAR We will present A FOLIO OF SUMMER FROCKS DESIGNED BY THREE HARPER’S BAZAR ARTISTS HELEN DRYDEN GRACE HART MARY MacKINNON. This folio will include Sports Dresses, Typical Summer Afternoon, and Summer Evening Gowns. Accessories to these will be shown in the June Number of Harper’s Bazar. FASHION The Countess of Oxford and Article Asquith’s (Concluded from page 162) certain immobility and is as well executed by the old as the young. An eminent French- man, on being shown the modern dancers, exclaimed: ‘“‘Je n’ai jamais vue tan de figures tristes, et de derriéres gai!” In a provincial town in America it was the fashion for young men to invite their young ladies to be their partners for a week at a time, and to practise some of the new steps privately before they took the floor at the social gather- ings. A good-looking and well brought up young couple, whose dancing had been much idmired, arranged to meet in private and go through some of the new and more complicated movements. The young woman suggested that her beau should go to her house when her father was at business and the grama- phone would not disturb him. In the exhilara- tion of the practise they overlooked the time, and her father surprised them before the LITERARY AT Anita L Ooos ’ § performance was over. To the amazement of the young man he was ejected with violence. On meeting the lady next day he remon- strated, saying how much his feelings had been hurt by her father’s assault: to which she said: “Oh! you mustn’t be offended— my papa is deaf—he didn’t hear the music!” It would be rash to say whether the fashions of to-day are an improvement upon those of my youth; but in one respect there is a marked and healthy difference: no one eats or drinks as much in society as they did, and in conse- quence you seldom hear the stertorous breathing or see the bolstered feet and purple faces associated with gout. One can only hope that the over-eating and heavy drinking that have been abandoned by the rich will be fol- lowed by a wiser diet and more moderation among the poor, for Fashion cannot be confined to Decoration. LAST S tory Concluied from page 164) has a toothache. So I was really glad that she went. So then something happened that was terribly embarrassing but it ended up by being one of the greatest thrills of my life. I mean Mr. Boyd looked up and he noticed me and he stood up and addressed the whole table and said, ‘“‘Gentlemen you are all dis- covering a Duse or a Sapho or a Cleopatra every week and I think it is my turn. Because I have discovered a young lady who is all three rolled into one. May I have permission to bring Miss Lorelei Lee over to the table?” So they really do not pay much attention to Mr. Boyd, but they said they did not mind. so he brought me right over to their table and introduced me, and almost all of them nodded and some of them even spoke. So now that I have met them, I can really feel that I am literary at last and that I can start and tell the story of Dorothy s life. Because I always believe that when @ girl does something, she ought to do it well, and I want my life to be as literary as possible so that when I finish the diary of Dorothy's life for all the young girls to read, it ill not only teach them a great moral lesson, but it will also be a piece of literature that almost anybody could be proud of. (More of the Diary next month

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(AR CH usberg U Can ple to started illinois - of it, Isberg, id him it just Ephie, te you to beg Ot ex- But er did reciate d dar- how uch a your- nd, as ptibly s long | ways death cle ent of lence. emon- shions ose 0 varked drinks conse- torous purple Vv hope x that ye fol- ration ot be le and ,odded really I can 's life. a girl ll, and yssible ‘othy’s il] not but it almost for MAY 1926 167 Her discoveries give new youth orothy (fray Coming to New York ten years ago, the daughter of a noted doctor and scientist, Dorothy Gray, by the dis- covery of new treatments and prep- arations for facial rejuvenation, soon becameoneof the most famousbeauty specialists in the world, numbering among her clientele scores of the greatest names in the international social register. f you're beginning to show age it will be at one of these three places The three telltale places which indi- cate facial age are: the double chin, wrinkles and lines around eyes and mouth, thin face with flabby muscles and crépy throat. AND MOUTH DOUBLE CHIN FLABBY {}+——— se MUSCLES {| __ : JL &@ CREPY |] THROAT |__ . /); Some of the scientific directional methods used by Dorothy Gray in her Fifth Avenue Salon. Now in your own home you can duplicate the action of her marvelous hands by using her unique invention, the Dorothy Gray Patter. HROUGH her years of experience, Dorothy Gray found that there are three places—weak spots—on a woman’s face which unerringly reveal one’s years. Correcting them makes a difference that is almost unbelievable. Experts agree in her estimate that 67% of all women past 25 and 90% past 35 reveal one or more of these conditions. Up to now, many women have found the battle against facial age a losing one. But Dorothy Gray’s delighted clientele has found that it is no longer necessary to let these three telltale places reveal their un- pleasant story. “To look one’s age is a folly,” says Dorothy Gray, whose world-famous Salon on Fifth Avenue has long been the mecca to famous faces of Society and Stage at, DOROTHY GRAY for the leading women of stage and society. For the thousands who have come to her, often with the signs of heart-break in their faces, she has performed almost miraculous transformations. Dorothy Gray has become the leading exponent on facial rejuvenation. Not by harsh surgery, not ‘‘face-lifting,”’ not “enameling’’—all so temporary and dangerous—but by scientific treatments with her own unique preparations. Now, all can be had in your own home. You can obtain the identical results—just as if you had come to the New York Salon of Dorothy Gray. Through her years of practice with a large and fastidious clientele, Dorothy Gray has now perfected systems for home treatment. You can erase years from your face if you're over 30. If younger, you can pre- vent age lines from coming prematurely. A double chin, that first fatal sign of departing youth, can be restored to grace- ful lines. Droopy, flabby muscles can be “firmed’’—sallow skin made glowing— thin and withered skin can be revitalized —-lines and crow’s-feet around eyes and mouth can be eliminated, erased. Learn all about Dorothy Gray’s famous treatments and preparations. She will gladly give you personal advice. Do not hesitate to tell her your beauty problems. Write in full or use the convenient coupon below. Dorothy Gray’s preparations, with com- plete directions for treatments, are on sale at fine department stores and quality drug stores throughout the country. If such a store is not conveniently near you, you may order direct. Mail the coupon or write today. DOROTHY GRAY, 753 Fifth Avenue, 40 New York, N. Y. Please tell me how | to treat a double chin. | to treat flabb:- muscles and crépy throat. to erase wrinkles and lines around eyes and mouth. Name Street City State

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168 J. SCHAEFFER ENDOWS THE PERMANENT WAVE WITH GREATER BEAUTY HE supreme artistry of a J. Schaeffer permanent apparent to all. Less conspicuous, yet none the less ap- preciated by fashion- able and fastidious women, are the facil- wave is ities which here assure both perfect mode and perfect protec- tion for the hair. All work supervised by J. Schaeffer personally. Telephone Bryant 7615. BOOKLET MAILED ON REQUEST The Establishment of JJ. SCHIALE FIFIER.o 590 Fifth Avenue New York, N. Y. The Second Floor This machine accurately tests your hair before the wave. Patented air-cooled heaters allow you to keep your permanent wave always like new with absolute safety. | NAUGHTY BABIES By MOLLIE N a dark little side street of Mayfair, I nightly jammed with a long queue of ex- pensive cars, is Charles’s famous restau- rant. Over the unassuming portal is the name in electric lights, and beneath these lights stands a gentleman in mulberry-colored cloth and a row of medals, who will condescend to hand you from your car and even to shield you with a large umbrella if it is raining. Good-evening, sir,” he said to Henry. Good-evening, madam,” for of course there was a madam m, in fact—and then he passed a remark upon the weather, which was a special mark of favor from this austere mulberry-colored gentleman. “Evening,” said Henry, nodding. As they passed through the swing doors he chuckled to Roger, in high good humor, “Knows me by now, that fellow.” “Hum,” said Roger, handing his hat to the cloak-room attendant. Roger had not got much imagination. He and Henry presented the strangest contrast, for where Henry was large and red and jovial, Roger was a dry, oddly shrunken-looking little man with a grayish face and light eyes which seemed to be loose in his head. They rolled about in a silly sort of way like two glass mar- bles. “Hum,” said Roger, rolling his marbles so that you could almost hear the clink they made The women had gone into the cloak-room to leave their wraps. In a few minutes they joined the men in the lounge. Curiously enough they were their wives. Angela was Roger’s wife. She was small, and her face appeared to be about the size of a threepenny bit. It was cleverly arranged, and quite beautifully painted. She did not look her age, which was about forty-eight. Her scarlet Georgette dress came one inch below her knees, and then refused to go any further. They were quite nice knees. Henry’s wife, Beatrice, was immensely tall and inclined to stoutness, so that people referred to her as “‘a fine woman.” She was blonde, and handsome in a messy sort of way. She wore very much the same as Angela did. Both the women were shingled and had a son a-piece up at Magdalen. They called each other “darling” and “sweetie,” and conversed in terms of too-too-frightfully. I think that is really all there is to say about them. HEY staring at walked slowly through the lounge, every one hard, but without much interest. Henry said: “Come along, you girls! Cocktail, I know that you won't, Bee.” “No cocktail for Bee? Why what’s hap- pened to the girl?” “T don’t touch drink now. It ruins one’s nervous system, so my doctor told me. And my dear, since I’ve given it up I feel years younger—” “Hang nervous systems! “? like a woman who drinks.” ‘A nice glass of orangeade twice a day,” murmured Beatrice. “Charming!” cried Angela, nibbling a salted almond and sipping her apéritif. Angela? ” said Henry. Angela was always enthusiastic about everything. “So pastoral!” she cried, nibbling and sipping. “*Hum,” said Roger, rolling his marbles to scan the crowded lounge. It was a fairly typical crowd. Everybody who was anybody was there, whatever that means. All the men seemed to be under twenty-five or over fifty-five. All the women were shingled and beautifully gowned. Every- one stared at every one, and looked bored to death with what they saw. Now and then people would get up and go in to dine. Henry and his party went too. They had the nicest table in the room, set in a little alcove shaped like a half-moon, not too close to the orchestra, and yet in a posi- tion where they could see and be seen by every one. “ Perfect!” cried Angela. She said to Henry, “Dear Henry, you always arrange things so beautifully. Doesn’t he, Roger? Bee darling, you have got the cleverest husband—’ HE orchestra, directed by the famous Mannheim, was paying its homage to the Great God Syncopation by a medley of strange sounds and jerky rhythms. “Naughty baby, naughty baby, naught-ee bay-bee—” Mannheim closed his eyes and swayed to its rhythm like a poplar caught by a storm in a mad Dobuzhinsky forest. His hair flowed back from his sallow forehead, godlike Mannheim, and his long thin fingers danced a drunken tarantella over the strings of his violin. ““If—you’re—wanting a beginner, “T sha’n’t do; “I—can—make a saint a sinne,, “If I want to—” Angela clasped her hands. “Oh, this divvy tune!’ She wriggled her shoulders, and swayed like Mannheim, closing her eyes and chanting: >ANTER-DOWNES “Naughty baby, naughty baby, naught-ee bay-bee—’ She said to Henry: “Too, too divvy! Doesn’t it make you want to get up and dance?” “Let’s,” said Henry breezily, making as if to rise. Angela, by somé clever contrivance of her own, tinkled with laughter and yet managed not to move her face out of place. “Ob, Henry! Bee, he’s getting more like a boy every day! “That reminds me,” said Roger—not much imagination, Roger hadn’t—* how is your boy: ? Coming home next week, I suppose. Ray is.” “Ah, Ray!” cried Angela, all pretty excite- ment. ‘“ You’ve no idea how I look forward to his vacations. He’s such a big boy now, Henry! It seems so strange to see my baby growing up— She popped a bit of toast into her mouth and crunched it daintily, adding: “He leaves England the day after he comes home, to spend his vacation with some friends in Norway. Dear Ray!” “T suppose he’s about the same age as our boy,” said Henry. “George will be twenty- one next month.” “Hum,” said Roger, “excellent soup, this.” Bee would not take the soup, for she was dieting, but ate a little sole. She drank several glasses of mineral water, saying: ‘You've no idea how fresh and young it makes you feel— “T’m sure it does, sweetie,” said Angela. She ate and drank everything which was put before her with a sort of dainty greediness, like a hungry little cat. “Relief to see a girl nowadays take her food like a Christian,” said Henry, swallowing some salad. “Sick of them with their ‘Oh, no, I can’t take this, I can’t take that—half a lemon, please, and a round of toast’.” He looked very pleased with himself. His heavy, clean-shaven face was round, red, glossy, and as dinner went on it waxed rounder, redder, glossier, till it seemed to glow like a tipsy lantern above the white of his shirt front. On the other hand, the more Roger drank the grayer and tighter he seemed to get, his conversation mainly consisting of “Hum’s” and comments on the food. “Wake up, Roger! ” cried Henry. dead yet, old mz in! ; “Pretty near it, the office to-day.” He was in the City, Angela pouted. “Roger darling, I do believe that you wish you were at home and going to by-byes at nine o’clock with a hot water bottle.” Henry exploded, “Roger? Not old Roger! Begins to wake up at twelve o’clock, Roger does. The life of the party at two. Eh, old man? What?” “Hum,” said Roger. Henry was positively brilliant. lated “‘mousse glacé” from the menu as “polished mouse,” and told three very old and bad stories with incorrigible delight. Over the coffee he talked City “shop” with Roger, while Angela and Beatrice discussed themselves, the dresses of the other women present, and a new face clay which Beatrice had discovered at a shop in South Molton Street. Presently they all went in to dance “Not ” said Roger. “‘ Hard day at like Henry. He trans ERE Mannheim and his underlings were not, but in their stead half a dozen gentlemen from Central Africa who sat banging things and making strange noises through their noses. “Oh!” cried Beatrice. ‘How too too!” She started to wriggle and sway, jerking her hands up and down like a puppet drunk with jazz. “*Let’s dance!”’ she cried. Roger followed her onto the floor, and, placing two fingers on her ribs, hove off into the crowd like a neat little tug being towed along by a large pleasure steamer. Shake an ankle, Angy?” asked Henry. He grabbed her, this amiable collie-dog of a Henry, and started off at terrific speed, scat- tering the dancers in his path to right and left. “When I dance I dance,” said Henry, taking a brisk country walk round the room. More and more people came in from the restaurant, so that presently the floor was packed and one could only stand in one spot, moving one’s legs about and looking as though one enjoyed it. Every one, that is, except Henry, who, owing to his bulk, managed to cleave a pas- sage for himself and Angela along which he moved at a colossal rate. Roger, lacking both his friend’s initiative and beef, was content to loiter in one corner of the room moving up and down on his toes like a Jew boy. “Sorry,” he said, as he crashed into some one Sorry,” he said, as some one crashed into him. “Oh!” cried Beatrice. “Isn’t it too too?” She closed her eyes, and sighed at the gentleman from Central Africa who was pre- siding over the drum. (Continued on page 170) HARPER’S BAZAR Lie, Maternity Corsets Lane Bryant is the largest house in the world selling Maternity Apparel daily to thousands of ex- pectant mothers. The Famous Lane Bryant Corset is the perfected prod- uct of years of expe- rience. It is the best corset in the world. Made in our AA, FL Ls AS A A A, p workrooms. H| 3.95 6.95 to 12.50 5 If unable to call, write Dept. GI 2 for Free Style Bock | Lane Bryant Liner it 21 W. 38th St. 26 W. 39th St. NEW YORK Hanover Place nr. Fulton BROOKLYN CHICAGO DETROIT PHILADELPHIA BALTIMORE TYamV lanl lam anv VamVram | Vanv Ve ST. LOUIS RIS RT ‘ Van Vi WANDA WILEY Stern Bros. Comedies Star Why Film Stars declare: “It is wonderful how ply and surely the Wonder- age stoen needless hair. Yes, this round, pink disc, the size of a powder puff and just as easy to use— ‘erases’? NEEDLESS HAIR You merely rotate this neat, magic disc over face, arms or legs and you erase the hair, leaving skin clear and satiny. 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ir for MAY 1926 169 Only 2 Women in 10 Today still employ the hazardous hygienic methods of yesterday "Supplied also in personal service cabinets 8 in every 10 women in the better walks of life have adopted this new way which solves woman’s oldest hygienic problem...by ending the in- security and uncertainty of old ways —and by providing easy disposal. :. By ELLEN J. BUCKLAND } Graduate Nurse HE rigid exactments of modern social and business life demand a new hygiene for women. Days are too precious, too full, to be lost . . . or inter- fered with by even natural complications. For that reason, you will find much more than simply a mere convenience in this new way. It will make a great difference in your life. Gayest, filmiest frocks may now be worn without a moment’s thought. Social demands are met in confidence. One lives every day... unhandicapped. The uncertainty of the old- time sanitary pad has been supplanted with a protection both absolute and scientific. Factors that changed the hygienic habits of the world This new way is Kotex, the scientific sanitary pad. Nurses in war-time France first discov- ered it. It is made of the super-absorbent Cellucotton, covered with specially processed, soft-finished gauze. It absorbs and holds instantly sixteen times its own weight in moisture. It is five times as absorbent as ordinary cotton pads. Each Kotex pad deodorizes with a new secret “Ask for them by name” RO! € PROTECTS—DEODORIZES in rest-rooms West Disinfecting Co. disinfectant. Think of the amazing protection this feature alone gives! Easy disposal—simply discard There is no bother, no expense, of laundry. Simply discard Kotex as you would a piece of tissue—without embarrassment. If you have not tried Kotex, please do. It will make a great difference in your viewpoint, in your peace of mind and your health. 60% of many ills, according to many leading medical authorities, are traced to the use of unsafe and unsanitary makeshift methods. Thus today, on eminent medical advice, mil- lions are turning to this new way. You can get it anywhere, today A fair test will convince you of its advantages beyond all question. No other method will ever satisfy. Kotex comes in sanitary sealed packages of twelve, in 2 sizes: the Regular, and Kotex-Super. At all better drug and department stores, everywhere. Today begin the Kotex habit. Note the im- provements, mental and physical, that it brings. Write today for “Personal Hygiene” booklet. Sample of Kotex will be mailed free on request. Cellucotton Products Co., 166 West Jackson Boulevard, Chicago. Kotex Regular: 65¢ per dozen Kotex-Super: 90c per dozen Easy Disposal and 2 other important factors No laundry. As easy to ) aisvose of as a piece of tissue—thus ending the trying problem of dis- posal. Utter protection — Kotex (2) absorbs 16 times its own weight in moisture; 5 times that of the ordi- nary cotton pad, and it deodorizes, thus assuring double protection, Easy to buy anywhere.® Many stores keep them ready-wrapped in plain paper—simply help your- self, pay the clerk, that is all. No laundry—discard as easily as a piece of tissue

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170 BEFORE YOUR NEXT PERMANENT WAVE ano safety of JheFrevenics Method This is the method of per- manent waving now prac- ticed by the finest parlors everywhere. It is the method that gives those large, soft waves of lus- trous beauty which all fas- tidious women most desire. And because a Frederics Method parloralwaysoffers more expert knowledge and artistry, it is not necessary to send away for tests before your wave. The great masters of permanent waving throughout the world ac- knowledge this method as supreme for beauty and for safety to your hair. If you do not know of these better parlors near write us and we will one you, gladly tell you the address. WRITE FOR THIS FREE FOLDER ** How to Care for Your Permanent Wave” [rox ee] x az Cf) = OS ery (o Manent It gives simple in that you to structions will allow keep your permanentwave always like Naving | new. 6. Predverics. Inc. 55A West 37th Street New York, N. Y. NAUGHTY BABIES Mollie Panter-Downes’s Story (Continued from page 168) “T adore niggers,” she said. Henry and Angela danced indefatigably, Angela staring glassily over her partner’s right shoulder, Henry’s red harvest moon of a face glistening over her head. Now and again they all came back and sat down at a little table and drank more champagne. At the next table to them was a very old man and a very young girl. She was quite lovely. She sat with her elbows on the table, not looking at her partner. They got up todance. As she danced her stare was glassier than Angela’s. The band rioted into: “Naughty baby, naughty baby, naught-ee bay-bee.”’ Beatrice flung back her head and bayed the tune, trying to catch the eye of the jazz drummer. She blew him a kiss. I must explain that Beatrice, after drinking mineral water all through dinner, had been tempted successfully to pull a long nose at her nervous system by drinking a good deal of champagne. “ Makes one sparkle,” she said to Angela. She sparkled, a trifle noisily. ‘Always goes to my head “Come on, Roger, let’s dance. The room was very hot. Ange ‘la and Beatrice produced powder puffs with which to repair their complexions, and Henry mopped his face with a large silk handke rchief. ” she explained. “Sick of this,” he said “Nothing doing here. Let’s go on somewhere. HEY went on somewhere. In the cloak room Angela asked: “How do I look, darling?” Beatrice was leaning toward the glass dab- bing powder over her face. Not looking at Angela, she murmured: ‘Too, too perfect, dear. Bother this pow- der! It won’t stay on my face. She licked her forefinger and moistened the shiny patches, applying more powder. Angela surveyed herself anxiously. ‘Scarlet is so trying to wear—one has to study one’s makeup so carefully. Not too much color. . . They packed themselves into a taxi, Henry squeezed between the two women, Roger facing them ‘The Satyr!” “Naughty baby, bay-bee,”” hummed tune The mulberry-colored gentleman, warmed by the largeness of Henry’s tip, smiled in- dulgently and shut the door. Adieu,’ he cried, and quoted Henry brilliantly. they cried. naughty baby, naught-ee Beatrice, a little out of waved his lily hand,’ “Attaboy, girls!” The Satyr was a smart night-club. It was “the thing’’ to go there now because it had been raided lately and might be again at any moment. One paid for this, of course, and for the privilege of being murdered in the scrum on the dancing floor, where one might be poked by the elbows of the best people, and even kick Royalty on the calf. The Satyr was decorated in the modern style. That is to say, its walls and ceiling were splashed wher- ever they could or could not be splashed with great splodges of orange and black and jade green. Here half a dozen slick young men of doubtful nationality took the place of the colored gentlemen at Charles's, but they made quite as much noise. When Henry's party came in they were hit in the face by a perfect avi alanche of soun “Ni 1ughty baby, bay-bee Y es, here they were, ‘naughty baby, naught-ee all the naughty babies. Hlenry and Angela and Roger and Beatrice. Ilere was the bald-headed old man who had come on from Charles’s with the very young girl. Here were his kind, jerking their limbs about to the mad rhythm of this mad music There was a curious absence of youth in the room. Here one saw a boy, here a girl, but for the most part they seemed to be dancing with their grandmothers and grandfathers Not far from Henry sat an old woman, very expensively dressed and coiffured, smoking a cigaret in a long holder and talking to a boy of about twenty-three or four whose pallid face was completely blank of everything ex- cept boredom. It looked as if some one had ironed all the intelligence out of it. o, Yh, you naughty!” cried his partner “Quaite,” said he, and stared at the ceil ing as if he expected somethi-g to drop upon him from its violent vorticism. What- ever it was it was sure to be boring HE room was terribly hot, for the modern style did not bethink itself overmuch of ventilation. The redness of Henry's face was glistening with little trickles of pers piration which ran down his forehead and the back of his neck \ white carnation which had bravely adorned the lapel of his coat earlier in the evening now hung limp and faded. “Your poor flower,” said Angela Henry pressed her to him a little closer. ‘Wore it for you, Angy,” he murmured. ‘Knew they were your favorite flower. I’m mad about you, Angy, you know.” Angy glanced at him “Oiled,” she thought, without surprise or disgust. Henry did look silly—so red and perspiring, with his shirt front bulging like that and his tie under one ear. Angela could always see things surprisingly clear when she was just slightly drunk. Then her insight into things could be uncannily acute. She was just slightly drunk now. She did not show it. Angela was ¢ lever i in these things. ‘Dear Henry,” she said. It was hot. And people trod on one’s feet. A well-known peer rammed his partner into the small of Henry’s back. “Enjoying this,”’ said Henry. Some one kicked him on the ankle bone. He suppressed a curse and cried with immense heartiness, “This is the _ goods! Snappiest place in town. Attaboy! He really thought that he was enjoying himself. Dear Henry. The heat was annoy- ing, the people who kicked and jostled him were annoying, but it was the thing to do, it was the goods. Attaboy! “Your collar is melting,’ said Angela. At their table Beatrice was sitting with Roger. She looked sleepy and a little sulky, and shiny round the nostrils. Her com- plexion was beginning to melt a trifle, running into queer little streaks and blotches. “Lend me your powder, sweetie,” to Angela. As for Roger, his face seemed to be care- she said fully shut over something, one could not tell what. Gray and tight and securely pad- locked. He sat there drinking steadily, his eyes rolling about, now to the right, now to the left. Every now and then Beatrice would drag him onto the floor, and he would support her by two fingers placed on her ribs, bouncing up and down on his toes until some one came along and crashed him out of their path. Then he would swear. Roger did not even think that he was enjoying himself... . A man at the table next to them was sitting by himself with a drink and an evening paper before him. The evening paper contained a heavily leaded head-line in flaring type: “BISHOP ATTACKS PRESENT-DAY YOUTH” “COCKTAILS AND NIGHT CLUBS” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE YOUNG- ER GENERATION?” What, indeed? For they were not here The band seemed to blare a satirical answer: “Naughty baby, naughty baby, naught-ee bay-bee Here were the naughty babies Here were our elders. The forties, the fifties, the sixties. The Henrys, the Angelas, the Beatrices, the Rogers. The delightful young things. They were tired, they perspired, their feet and heads ached, but they were enjoying themselves, or thinking that they were, which comes to the same thing. Only a few like Roger wished to God they were out of this din. They danced, the Henrys, the Angelas, while the papers asked, “‘What is wrong with our youth?” No one answered them, because no one knew the answer. Probably there wasn’t one. NGELA found herself for a moment at their table alone with Roger. The room seemed to have got hotter, and even the music sent feverish prickles down one’s back. It was like a jungle. I have told you that Angela could have the queerest flashes of insight sometimes. She sat watching the crowd. Old men with damp hands and loose, wrinkled necks. Old women with expensive dresses cut to show a generous amount of old backs. And then quite suddenly Angela thought of her son Ray, who was a large young man up at Magdalen, and who, of course, belonged to the younger generation that the papers were always kicking up such a fuss about. It was funny, thinking of Ray, just then, for no reason at all. She looked at the crowd again, and then at her husband. She said slowly: “All these people. Rather silly, don’t you think? Like a sort of Zoo. Hopping up and lown to that ghastly band. Do they like it? Are they enjoy ing themselves, do you think?” ““God knows,” said Roger. Angela seemed to shake herself. Her smile was quite frantic. Disconcerting, these mo- ments of clearness. ““Come!”’ she cried. *‘ Let’s dance, Roger!’ They danced. It was getting on for morning when they left The Satyr. Angela was conscious of a great weariness and a hot, woolly feeling at the back of her eyes. But Beatrice seemed to have woken up, and she could not let herself be outdone by Beatrice, so she shrieked: “Hi, boys and girls, I’ve got an idea! Roger and I will see you two home first. Let’s get two taxis and have a race to see who gets there first. “Great idea!’ “Taxi!” * said Henry. “Taxi!” screamed Beatrice. (Concluded on page 17 HARPER’S B Murine Wakes Up | Sleepy EYES No need to start the day with EYES swollen from sleep. A few drops of Murine upon getting up in the morning will take away not only the puffy look but the sleepy feeling. Use Murineeach evening, too. It soothes and refreshes EYES wearied by sewing, reading or office work—relieves the irri- tation caused by exposure to sun, wind and dust. Millions of men and women use this Icng- trusted lotion tokeep their EYES alwaysclear, brightand healthy. 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PHOTO BY JOEL FrDEK, N.Y. Surpassingly Smart eee this woman of regal beauty! OU see her at all the smart rendez- vous. You marvel at her radiant beauty. It is perfection! ation... At first perhaps you do not fathom | her secret. You steal another glance. Her hair —prefectly coifed, of course. Her gown, rich simplicity. Her skin— ah—that is it! Her soft luxuriant skin —clear, smooth, exquisitely lovely. You ponder. Surely no ordinary pow- der could possibly impart such radiant, vivacious beauty. And yet... * * * Most clever women already know of Peter Pan, that strange new powder impregnated with myriads of elusive OPAL HUES. These | rare, precious, cleverly blended OPAL HUES impart to the features instantly a smart, new beauty that reveals utmost loveliness in any light—even the harsh, unflattering light of the sun at high noon. Cool... of | majestic poise ... the center of admir- | PROBLEMS WHICH CONFRONT OUR READERS Inquiry: I would appreciate greatly your help in answering the following questions: I am a stranger in a small town. I have had many calls, a few people without calling have invited me to bridge parties. Is this good form on their part? Should I call after the party if I have been able to attend it? If I had to decline it should I call afterwards? In making such a call should I leave my card? Would a tea or bridge party invitation from me do as well as a call? After calls have been exchanged must a bridge party invitation be returned by a call? I will appreciate it so much if you will give me your advice in solving these questions. Advice: Of course the leaving of cards and the extending of invitations only after cards are left are social details that are not so punctiliously carried out as they once were. People now are so much more informal—and so hurried—that they are not held to such strict and exact account as formerly. It is one of the rules of good form that a visit should be made before issuing a first invitation. It is reasonable and consistent with the idea of society in general that this should be so. A hostess should formally “pay her respects” to a guest-to-be before she extends her first invitation to her. However, it would, I think, be a bit too conventional to stand on this formality with the people who have evidently every intention of wishing to be friendly and cordial and enthusiastic about including you in their hospitality. They have, of course, been un- conventional and informal in not calling before they asked you to the bridge parties, but they have not been unfriendly or unkind. And so, if I were you, I would take the spirit for the deed. One can not stand on ceremony too much these days, especially in a small town, where social relationships are not so easy as in large cities, where there are more - Then, too, one needn’t stand on ceremony in circumstances that clearly indicate that no unconventionality or unkindness was in tended. It is the sin of omission of a con ventionality rather than a commission of an unkindness. These people mean to be kind, and that is the most important thing. Take their cordial welcoming. I might add, also, that there may be some local rules or customs that are taken for granted in the town to which you have come to live, and this waiving of the initial call may be one of them. Whether you accept or decline the invi- tation, you should make the “party”’ call. The idea of the call is that it acknowledges the honor that these people have paid you, and the fact that you were not able to accept their hos- pitality makes no difference with your social “sets Of course, Peter Pan must be more than a | face powder. It is really a beauty treatment —every time you powder. Of finest ingredi- ents—stayspn for hours. In four new shades —sealed in silk—at $3.00 NATURAL OPAL HUE RACHEL OPAL HUE ROSE OPAL HUE WHITE OPAL HUE No other powder like it. Imparts brilliant beauty—instantly. Read the amazing story that comes with each box. At finest Beauty Shops and Toilet Counters everywhere. If your dealer cannot supply ro. use the coupon for generous trial box—-TODAY. Created by Fallis, Inc., Perfumer : CINCINNATI Copyrighted 1926, Fallis, Inc. Peter Pan OPAL HUE searty QWMEL Sealed in Silk—$3.00 the Box In a box of glistening black and gold Generous Trial If your dealers cannot supply you send $1.00 for a generous size box of this exquisite pow- der and the amazing story of its creation.( Trial size not sold in stores.) Mail coupon at once. FALLIS, Inc., Perfumer Gi. B. 6-26) 1522 Riverside Drive, Cincinnati, ©. Enclosed is $1.00 for generous Trial Box of Peter Pan OPAL HUE Powder and the amaz- ing story of its creation. Give shade wanted ................--.---00+- — responsibility for expressing and “registering” your appreciation. In making this call, you do leave cards. A tea or bridge party invitation could not be regarded as an alternative for the call of acknowledgment-of-hospitality, especially for the first invitation that is extended. Of course, later, when you are more informal in your relationships with these new friends, such an invitation would be considered a “‘return” hospitality. But such an invitation could not be interpreted as acknowledgment of the past party. “There,”’ as Shakespeare says, “‘ begins new matter,”’ a new hospitality, your hospi- tality, not an acknowledgment of old hospi- tality, the friend’s hospitality. This applies definitely to that first invitation; as I say, after that, informal relationships usually pre- vail and people do not stand on formality. Inquiry: What is the correct attire for a home wedding, which will probably take place in the afternoon? Will you please suggest attire for both the bride and the groom? This wedding will probably take place some time in the middle or later part of June, and is to be very informal, with only one or two atten- dants. Advice: For an afternoon home wedding the only correct attire for the groom is formal day clothes: cutaway coat and dark striped gray trousers. For these formal clothes the only “‘sub- stitute” —and a most informal and not at all “‘correct” substitute—is the dark blue or black business suit. If the bride decides not to wear the tra- ditional white dress and veil, then, for a home wedding, she may choose any frock that comes in the category of “‘afternoon frocks.” For a wedding in June she would undoubtedly choose a very light shade in a very light- weight material. This year, when all shades of all colors seem to be in the mode, she will have an easy and felicitous time. Chiffon is a particularly fashionable material this year, and that would adapt easily and most effec- tively. One of the new soft crépes would be lovely too; or, if the bride wishes a more summery material, organdie comes in charm- ing pastel shades. A cream or beige lace dress would be charming, over a self-color slip or a light shade of some harmoniously combining color. With any of these frocks, a bi picturesque lace or soft horsehair hat would be effective and “‘ unifying” with the costume. These suggestions are, of course, very general, since in your letter you were not very definite about the attire that you had in mind. But I understand that the plans had not then been crystallized. If I can help when your plans are a bit further progressed, I shall be most happy to be at your service. NAUGHTY BABIES Mollie Panter-Downes’s Story (Concluded from page 170) One hove up out of the gloom, and Henry, who was wearing a gilt paper head-dress in stead of his hat, wrenched open the door. “Hop in,” he said to Angela, and followed her. He cried out of the window to Roger and Bee, “‘ We're off! Ten to one on little Henry!” They rattled off in the direction of Shafts- bury Avenue. Henry put his arm round Angela’s shoulders. “Tired?” he said. “Yes,” said Angela. She looked tired and very old. Her little face was suddenly ghastly, the chin and cheek- bones jutting out sharply under the skin. “Angela,” said Henry, “Angela.” His face was so near hers in the darkness. It looked quite pallid. A great pallid round of flesh. Again Angela thought of Ray. Ray had been such a darling little boy. It was funny.... “Dear Henry,” she said faintly. He kissed her. His cheek was rough against hers. Poor Beatrice. What would she say if she knew? Angela did not know or care. She let Henry kiss her, feeling tired no longer. Faintly she realized that when she was just faintly drunk again she would see Henry quite clearly, as she had seen him to-night, red and gross and stupid. But the taxi-cab was dark, and she was more than faintly drunk. Naughty baby.... They reached Henry’s house in Eaton Square, and in a minute or two up came Beatrice and Roger in the second taxi. ‘‘You've won!” cried Beatrice. ‘Come on in and have something to drink.” But, “No,” said Angela, “No, really, we must be getting home. Good-bye, Bee sweetie, such a divvy evening.” They kissed each other’s cheeks. pressed Henry’s hand. “It’s been heaven,” she said, and could not help giggling a little, because Henry really did look too funny with his gilded paper cap tip- ping drunkenly over one eye. When Angela and Roger stood on the door- step of their house in a square off Sloan Street, Angela stood staring into the Square gardens while her husband fumbled with the latch key. It was so quiet. The trees were all standing still and in darkness, not stirring a leaf. Over the houses the sky was paling. A little breeze ran up the street and whisked into Angela’s face. “I suppose they’re still dancing at The Satyr,”’ she said. ‘Poor devils,” muttered Roger, opening the door Truly Angela was in strange mood to-night. She looked up at the sky. She said to Roger, “The sky looks as if it were smiling at every- body, Roger.” f “Hum,” said Roger, “don’t blame it.” Angela HARPER’S BAZAR Something DIFFERENT for Bobbed Hair THERE is a tremendous difference in bobs. Some are wonderfully attractive and becoming, while others, well—which kind is yours? I wish you could picture the becoming kind I have in mind — the sort that makes men turn to admire. I can’t tell you what the color is, but it’s full of those tiny dancing lights that somehow sug- gest auburn, yet which is really no more actual color than sunlight. It’s only when the head is moved that you catch the auburn sugges- tion — the fleeting glint of gold. You have no idea how much your bob can be improved with the “tiny tint” Golden Glint Shampoo will give it. If you want a bob like that I have in mind, buy a package and see for yourself. At all drug stores, or send 25¢ direct to J. W. Kost Co., 632 Rainier Avenue, Seattle, Washington. Golden Glint SHAMPOO ITS OFF M) Jecause ITS OUT That is why ZIP is so popular today It destroys the growth. It attacks the cause and eliminates it gently, quickly and safely, at the same time making your skin adorable. This action is totally unlike depilatories which merely remove surface hair. You can increase your beauty 60% in : ve minutes by deciding to get ZIP today Use ZIP once on your face, under- arms or body and you will never resort to ordinary depilatories, or electric treatments. Ideal for perfecting the bair line below the bob. Sold Everywhere—Moneyback Guarantee Write for ‘*Beauty’s Greatest Secret’’ FREE. Very Special: Enclose 4c in stamps and I will send you also liberal sam- ples of AB-SCENT (deodorant), Face Powder, and Massage, Cleans- ing & Tissue Building Cream Treatment or FREE Dem- onstration at my Salon ; ,) Specialist Dept. 420 562 Fifth Ave. Ent. on 46th St.) New York City J Destroy Your Superfluous Hair & ROOTS IT'S OFF because IT'S OUT HARMLESS COLORLESS LIQUID DEODORANT By Mail S$ BERI nu New York Good Stores or MADAME 562 Fifth A

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