I've seen her saving it seventeen times.
(_To the audience_) You like Norma Talmadge, don't you?" (_Applause
from the audience_.)
_Frank_: "Then wouldn't you like to see her as she really is?
(_To a lady sitting with friends in a box_.) Stand up, Norma, and
let the audience see you."
_Here a slim lady with a tense, eager, pale face and a mass of hair
stood up and bowed. Immense enthusiasm_.
_Frank_: "That's Norma Talmadge. You do like saving your honour,
don't you, Norma? And now (_to the audience_) wouldn't you like to
see Norma's little sister, Constance? (_More applause_.) Stand up,
Constance, and let the audience see you."
Here another slim lady bowed her acknowledgments and the play was
permitted to proceed.
What America is going to do with the cinema remains to be seen, but I,
for one, deplore the modern tendency of novelists to be lured by
American money to write for it. If the cinema wants stories from
novelists let it take them from the printed books. One has but to
reflect upon what might have happened had the cinema been invented a
hundred years ago, to realise my disturbance of mind. With Mr. Lasky's
millions to tempt them Dickens would have written "David Copperfield"
and Thackeray "Vanity Fair," not for their publishers and as an
endowment to millions of grateful readers in perpetuity, but as plots
for the immediate necessity of the film, with a transitory life of a few
months in dark rooms.
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