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MORSELIFE LITERARY SOCIETY'S BREAKFAST AT THE COLONY PALM BEACH

white ‘Never Explain, Never Complain,’ and ‘Don’t worry, It never happens,’ ‘Anon.’

I wondered who ‘Anon’ was.

Russell escorted me in to dinner. I noticed that there were clusters of white roses down the center of the long narrow tables joined together with sprigs of green ivy on a white damask tablecloth interrupted only by three tall silver candelabras. The crystal stemware and silver service plates under elegant white china made me think of a Minnesota winter. It was breathtaking.

I looked for my place card, hoping I’d be seated alongside my escort so I’d have someone familiar to talk to. At each place setting there were green ivy leaves on which our names were inscribed in white ink. I passed Fred Astaire, Joan Fontaine, Arthur Rubinstein and then I saw my card. Looking to my right was not Russell’s name but Clark Gable’s!

What in the world would I have to say to either Clark Gable or Arthur Rubenstein? Or they to me? My chair was pulled out by Mr. Gable who smiled revealing ravishing dimples. He motioned for me to sit. I felt faint.

“Will you be in California for long?” Mr. Rubinstein asked.

“Not really,” I said, “I’m here for six weeks to make a screen test for Warner Brothers.”

“Well, if I know Jack (Warner) he’ll keep a beautiful girl like you around for much longer than that.”

I was about to thank Mr. Rubinstein for the compliment when wine glasses were tapped. Sir Charles rose to welcome everyone and to toast the guest of honor, Cole Porter, who was still deep in conversation with Lady Mendl.

Mr. Gable wanted to know what part of the country I was from and when I told him Minnesota, he asked if I liked to fish. (Minnesota has 10,000 lakes.) I filled him in on my background of hunting and fishing with my father which began at a very early age. We were in the middle of a conversation when hot plates were set in front of us.

A large silver platter was passed with tiny baby