her," he said, without restraint.

The almost timid look of incredulousness he remembered having noticed
when he told her she was beautiful at the Barton Randolph lawn fete came
into her eyes. For a fraction of a second they looked into each other's
faces and something that she saw told her that his adoration was not
only for the image of herself that he had seen upon the screen. She
caught her underlip between her teeth and looked down.

"We can go now," she said, a note in her voice that he had never heard
before.

They did not speak as they walked toward the gates of the studio and it
was then he realized that he loved her. In that moment he was
transported to an indescribable happiness. She seemed a fairy creature
at his side, too beautiful to touch, too wonderful to speak to.

An automobile stopped beside them. Bonwit, at the wheel, leaned out
over the side.

"Can't I give you two a lift home?" he asked.

John looked toward Consuello and heard her say:

"No, thanks; it's only a few blocks home and we'll walk--it's such
a--a--a glorious night."

CHAPTER XVIII

Consuello was the first to speak as they passed through the studio
gateway to the sidewalk overhung by the drooping branches of tall pepper
trees.

"It's not far," she said.

The words awoke John from his enthrallment and she saw by his glance
toward her that he did not comprehend their meaning.

"It's not far to the house," she explained. Not far! He wished it were
miles away, that they might walk on together for hours.

"I could not bear being cramped up in an apartment," she added. "When it
became necessary for me to find some place to live in Los Angeles, a
dear friend--you must meet her--and I hunted up this little place for
our home. It wasn't much to look at when we found it, but we have made
it over to suit us and we have both grown to love it."

"Your friend--is she in pictures, too?" he asked.

"Betty is an artist," she replied. "She designs sets and costumes for
pictures and she is wonderful. She knows everything about her work, more
than anyone else in Hollywood, they say. She deserves all the credit for
turning our little home into a dream place."

"You will miss her when----" he found himself unable to finish the
sentence, "you are married."

"Yes," she said. "I'll miss her and our little home. Really, I don't
believe I will know how to act if I become the wife of the mayor of Los
Angeles. I have grown to detest form