I wish I could read them all, for in every one there is human feeling, and I wish it were possible that I could accept some of the invitations, especially those inviting me to quietness and solitude. But there are thousands too many. Most of them will have to be answered by my secretaries, but all of them will be answered, and we are taking trunkfuls of the letters back to California in order that as many of the requests as possible shall receive attention.
During the afternoon there came Donald Crisp, Tom Geraghty and the bunch, and before long my apartment in the London Ritz might just as well be home in Los Angeles. I realise that I am getting nowhere, meeting nobody and still playing in Hollywood.
I have travelled 6,000 miles and find I have not shaken the dust of Hollywood from my shoes. I resent this. I tell Knoblock I must meet other people besides Geraghty and the Hollywood bunch. I have seen as much as I want to see of it. Now I want to meet people.
Knoblock smiles, but he is too kind to remind me of my retreat before the name plate of Bernard Shaw. He and I go shopping and I am measured for some clothes; then to lunch with E. V. Lucas.
Lucas is a very charming man, sympathetic and sincere. He has written a number of very good books. It is arranged to give me a party that night at the Garrick Club.
After luncheon we visit Stoll's Theatre, where "Shoulder Arms" and Mary Pickford's picture "Suds," are being shown. This is my first experience in an English cinema. The opera house is one that was built by Steinhouse and then turned into a movie theatre.
It is strange and odd to see the English audience drinking tea and eating pastry while watching the performance. I find very little difference in their appreciation of the picture. All the points tell just the same as in America. I get out without being recognised and am very thankful for that.
Another scene from "Sunnyside," one of my favourite photo plays.