“He is going to propose again," sighed May, as she felt the side car slow down, and she took a sideways look at Mark's face. There was an expression of determination about his jaw that she knew well, and she sighed again. “How like a man to propose at the beginning of an outing, It will spoil the whole day and we had it all out last week. He knows I don't want to marry yet," Her eyes grew dreamy and she saw as she so often had in her daydreams, her name splashed over the front of all the cinemas - May Matthews, the World's Greatest Star.

They swung into a shady lane, and, as Mark's expression changed to one of content, May's took on the determination. 

“We might stop here a bit,” he suggested, as he came to a standstill. 

"We might,” replied May without enthusiasm, “but if we do we shall never get ‘to Sandrock.” 

“Need we go on to Sandrock?” 

"Of course we must,” said May, determinedly heading him off. "We planned the whole trip ‘out, and you knew we were to have tea at Sandrock and go to the Picturedrome after. Why I would not miss that for anything, Fancy seeing — Phyllida Fane herself." She quoted reverently: “Personal appearance of tho World's Darling, Phyllida Fane.” 

"There you go again,” snorted Mark scornfully. “I suppose you hope to be a second Phyliida." 

“Wouldn't  that be wonderful!” breathed May. "It must be marvellous to be the World's Darling.”

"Rather you were mine –" began Mark, and May, realising she had given him the cue he wanted, looked desperately round for something to distract him = and found it.

 “Look!" she shrieked and Mark followed her pointing finger, There, in the middle of the road, standing provocatively on the highest of heels, its brilliant buckle flashing in the sun, stood a pink brocade slipper. In a couple of strides he had reached it and picked it off the ground, 

"Well," he grinned, "I've seen old shoes lying about often enough, but never sink slippers.” 

"Let me see," squealed May, and Mark dropped the trophy into her lap, She turned it over and raised wondering eyes “It's beautiful, Mark, and terribly expensive, Who could have dropped it?" 

Mark looked up the road and over the hedge, but there was no sign of a shoeless lady, He stood irresolute, but May's eyes were glowing. 

"Come on Mark, it is an adventure. Let us follow the trail and find Cinderella.” 

They started up, following the windings of the lane, but they had scarcely gone a hundred yards when May's shriek brought them up in a length. Bubbling with excitement, she threw herself out and held up for inspection a pink silk stocking, Mark sat back and scratched his head. 

"It seems hardly decent to me," he said, “She can't be walking along undressing as she goes, can she?" 

"Idiot!" giggled May. “I know what it is now, there is a car in front with the luggage leaking, Can we catch them up?" 

“Depends how fast they are going. They may be miles ahead.” 

“Then let us follow and gather up the remains., If we leave things like this strewing about the place, some tramp will pinch them, or a beastly speeder  run over them." May gently rubbed the fine silk against her cheek, “They are toe lovely to be run over", she murmured.

 “It isn't our affair," protested Mark, with all a man's dislike of interfering, but, as usual, May had her way and they started up again, both pairs of eyes on the road. Reaching the top of a hill they saw, halfway down an unmistakable froth of pink and, shuffling hastily towards it, the figure of a tramp, in a flash May became the organiser of the campaign. 

*Quick", she whispered, “as fast as you can Pull up and leave it to mes” - They sped down the hill and pulled up level with the pink frothy’ dead heat with the tramp. He turned, startled, and before he realised what was happening, May was at his slide. swooping on the trophy, she cried triumphantly: 

“Oh there’s my nightie Mark. I knew it had fallen out somewhere,“ 

Smiling cheerfully at the tramp, she returned to the sidecar as Mark started up. 

“Neatly done," he grinned, looking over his shoulder at the puzzled figure in the road. May was caretally folding the silken treasure and adding it to the pile at her feet.

 ``This is fun,” she smiled back. “What next, I wonder?" 

They turned into a quiet country road, we paused, doubtful which way to take.

 "A clue," shrieked May, and pointed to where, festooned across the hedge. there hung the second pink stocking. They retrieved it and followed the trail down which it pointed. It led downhill to where a cluster of white houses shone in the afternoon sun, but it was evident that something had disturbed the usual afternoon slumber of the village, for faces appeared at the windows and little knots of people were gathered in the roads.

“They must have found some things," cried May and sat up tense and ready, “Look" she pointed, “by that gate, Quick - the old lady is coming out. Drop me here and go on slowly.” 

Mark obeyed and May walked calmly up the village street to where an old dame was staring with amazement at a wonderful Indian shawl which had spread itself at her gate. - As she slowly bent to it May remarked: 

"Excuse me." 

“Eh?" asked the old lady, straightening up.

 "My shawl, I think,” smiled May. "Thank you so much," With a magnificent gesture she flung it round her shoulders and retired to the sidecar, whence she bowed regally to the bemused woman as they sailed off .

At the far end of the village a knot of small boys was gathered, talking excitedly, and May looked at them dubiously.

“This will not be so easy;" she said. “pass then quite slowly so ‘that I can get a good look and then draw up. Pretend it is a puncture or something but be ready to get going when I shout." 

“OK ,Chief," chuckled Mark and slid leisurely past the group of urchins who were peering into something that looked like a jewel box. Just beyond them he stopped and announced in a loud voice:

“Something wrong with that back tyre. Hop out a minute while I look at her.” 

May hopped out and strolled up to the little group. "Hello, found something?” she asked in a casual voice. 

They looked round suspiciously and the bigger ones scowled, but a little chap chirped “It 's pearls." 

May laughed.

“Bet you they are not real ones," she scoffed.

 "Bet you they are," said the boy holding the box. 

“Do you know anything about pearls?” asked May and the boy hesitated.

"It is as easy as anything to tell the real from the imitation,” she went on in the same casual manner. “See here," she lifted one end of the necklace the boy holding fast to the other. ‘Solemnly she breathed upon it and began to rub, keeping a firm grasp meanwhile, Gradually she felt the boy's hold slacken and with startling suddenness, she let out a shriek. 

"Look out," she screamed, pointing with her free hand up the road they had come. Every head turned and in that moment May twitched the necklace from the loosened hold and was off like lightning. Mark started up just in time and the howls of the defeated crowd followed them round the corner. 

"You will have the police after you for theft," warned Mark as they Left the village behind, but May's blood was up and there was no stopping her. She indignantly denied afterwards that she kicked the man who had found the second pink slipper, but Mark swears to this day that it was a hack on the shin that made him drop it. The pile at her feet was growing uncomfortably big when, topping a hill, they came beng on a small Gar, drawn up by the roadside, Trailing from its luggage carrier was an empty suitcase and beside it stood an apologetic young men vainly trying to console a tear stained beauty in tweeds. The man turned as they drew up, welcoming the interruption and Mark murmured:

"Have you er lost anything?”

 “Lost anything?” shrilled the lady “We have lost everything and he,” with a withering glance at the young man,"he said it was strapped up” 

May stepped with dignity out of the sidecar, & manoeuvre which she had practised to perfection, and with a gesture indicated its contents. 

"Will you just check these and see if that is all you have lost?" she asked with composure, and Mark choked behind her back. The lady ran to her side. 

“My demi“ she gasped. “How marvellous! Where did you find them? ‘Look Neil, look my shawl, my pearls , everything. It is too wonderful, you don't know how you have saved me, Neil, get the case down and let me pack again,” 

May looked from one to the other and her mouth opened. 

“Neil?” she said wonderingly, and then in a tone of awestruck certainty. "Neil Kent: Why, Mark, it is Neil Kent and Phyllida Fane." 

The man made a little grimace. 

“Spotted again" he groaned, but Phyllida smiled as May, her dignity gone, dropped on her knees by the empty suitcase, breathing: 

“Do let me help you pack.” 

Together they folded the beautiful things, May almost incoherent with pride. 

"It is marvellous to think it is really you," she gasped, “I've seen all your films and loved them. We were just going to Sendrock to see “Loving Sinners" at the Picturedrome and your personal appearance." 

Phyllida Fane set back on her heels and laughed. My personal appearance," she gurgled. “Can you imagine it in these?" She indicated her neat tweeds and brogues. “If you had not found my things i should have been lost, absolutely. She has saved my life, hasn't she, Neil?"

May looked from the young many now chatting with Mark on the bank and back to the kneeling Phyllida, looking a question she did not like to ask. Phyllida Fane interpreted it.

 "Yes, we really are married," 

"So she says," put in Neil, “but there are times when I wonder,” 

Phyllida made a Little face at him. 

"It is a hard life, isnt it," she laughed, " sharing your wife with the public, It is the public, the public, all the time, It is only runaway days like this that keep us sane and just when we have persuaded ourselves that we are plain Mr and Mrs, Kent, you come along and recognise us."

She gave a rueful smile and then, with a sudden change of expression, put an arm round May. "But I forgive you for recognising us. You don't know how tremendously grateful I am and how very much in your debt. I just don't know how to thank you," 

Neil came across to them, “I hear you were going to the Picturedrome," he said, “we can give them seats, of course, Phyllida, and I have just suggested that they might have supper with us afterwards, if ~ this lady agrees." 

“Splendid” Phyllida clapped her hands. “You must tell me how you found all my things ‘over supper." 

May accepted breathlessly, and some hours later she and Mark entered the vestibule of the Picturedrome, the most sumptuous cinema in Sendrock. Mark, somewhat diffidently enquiring for their seats at the box-office, was amazed at the change in the girl's expression, Her bored indifference changed to immense respect, 

“Miss Fane's friends," she announced to someone behind her. 

"Miss Fane's friends," repeated a masculine voice, in the tones of one announcing royalty. “This way please.” 

Attended by pages and hovered over by the manager himself they were ushered into a box, a luxurious abode of cushioned seats and shaded lights. Hardly were they seated before another page appeared, offering “with Miss Fane's compliments", a gigantic box of chocolates. With a last murmured concern for their comfort the manager withdrew and May settled down to enjoy the show, Phyllida Fane was as lovely as ever and May's eyes were wide as she followed her screen adventures, but whats at the end, the star herself appeared on the stage, a vision od pink and shimmering embroidery picked out by Limelight, the memory of the treasure hunt came back. As Mark murmured in her car :"My shawl, I believe," May dissolved in helpless giggies. 

The arrival of a page to escort them to Miss Fanes car brought her quickly to a more dignified pose and it was with something of awe that she took her seat by the side of the famous film star and was driven to her hotel. 

“But my clothes,” she murmured, “I'm not dressed for supper in a place like this," Phyllida Fane pressed her arm in a comforting manner, “We have a private rooms dear," she said, reassuringly “and, talking of clothes, think how I should have been dressed if it had not been for you.” 

“We want to hear the whole story,” said Neil, as he escorted them upstairs and over a memorable supper the story of the treasure hunt was told, gaining in the telling, no doubt, and reducing Neil to chuckles and Phyliida to joyful admiration. 

"My dear," she gasped, dabbing her eyes, “it sounds like a scenario. You ought to have been a film heroine.” 

May leant forward, hands clasped emi cheeks crimson. “Oh please," she implored, "do you think I could? I would give the world to be famous like you. Couldn’t you, couldn’t you give me a chance. Phyllida grew serious  and over the table her eyes searched first May and then Mark.

On Mark her eyes lingered for a while, noting with approval his square shoulders, his pleasant, manly face, Then her eyes passed to Neil, and, catching her glance, he smiled into them. Slowly she shook her head, and May's eager look grew dim.

“Of course I know it was rather a cheek" she stammered, but Phyllida leant across with a protesting hand. 

“Oh, my dear, it isn’t that - please, please don't think I would not help you It is just", a smile trembled at the corner of her lips," just that I like you both too much. I want you to enjoy life and each other, not to have to snatch moments when the public do not need you. Listen"; her voice dropped to an earnestness they had not heard before. "we are going to tell you a secret. Do you know where we had been when you met us? We had been to our cottage for two whole days, the first two days together Neil and I have had this year.” 

May looked incredulous and she hastened to add: I don't mean that we had not seen each other, put this was the first time we had got away alone, away from work, from people, from publicity. Can you imagine what it feels like to run to meet your husband home from Smerica and then to see your picture all over a paper – Film Star's Kiss? Even our private life is not our own. They interview us, write us up, get our servants to tell stories of our doings. It is like living on a roof, in full view of everybody, But just now and then-we escape." 

She paused and Neil took up the tale. “It is miles from anywhere, our cottage,” he explained, "down the end of a lane that leads nowhere. There is a pump for water, and oil lamps, and a roof that comes slanting down till it hits your head. There's a tiny garden - but we never have time to plant the garden," he added, wistfully.

"We just take what we need for a night or two in the car," took up Phyllida, “and we do it all ourselves. I fry sausages and kippers and make welsh rabbit, all the common things one is not supposed to like, and Neil washes up and tries to clear the weeds that have grown since we were last there, It  is just our dream home. 

She stretched out a hand to Mark with the smile that had made her famous. “You will think me an interfering old thing,” she laughed, “but I want you to own a dream home that you use for more than two days in the year, and to have in it ," here the beautiful mouth twisted mischievously, and her eyes turned to May, “to have in it someone whom you don't share with the public.” 

“Hear hear," applauded Neil. 

Mark clasped the friendly hand, and looked into the star’s eyes. 

“It is what I want too,"he said, “and it is ready for May when she wants it.” 

May sat silent, her eyes fixed on her plate and for a moment there was an awkward pause. Across it sounded the striking of a clock, and Mark leapt to his feet with a sudden exclamation. 

"I say, it can't be as late as that. We have sixty miles to do, and May's people are terrors if she is late." 

With hasty apologies, he fled, to return in a few minutes, panting, with his bike. 

"May is up with Phyliida," remarked Neil, coming to the door with a cigarette in his mouth, "they are powdering their noses, and talking. Give ‘them time - you can't hurry Phyllida.

The minutes passed and still Mark waited, carrying on a disjointed me conversation with Neil, with one eye on the door. It was nearly half-an hour later that Phyllida and May emerged, arm-in-arm and completely unconcerned.

"Have you been waiting?" smiled Phyllida, and Neil turned his eyes heavenwards. May climbed leisurely into the sidecar and as the last goodbyes were said, Phyllida stooped and kissed her. Then with a roar they were off, May with a secret smile on her face, Mark with set jaw, rating the clock, As they slowed to a warning light,, he turned and grunted: 

“What am I going to say to your mother when you get in at this hour?" 

May shrugged her shoulders and the red light danced on a mischievous face. 

"I should tell her,” she said, “that Phyllida Fane and Neil Kent are coming to our wedding” ; 

With a wrench Mark ran the machine into the bank and, leaping off, he swung May out in a manner worthy of Neil Kent in "the Brutal Lover.” Had any movie man been at hand with his camera he might had caught a close-up of May and Mark starring in their first great romantic role.

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