Friends—friends always spread bad news—whispered that something was wrong. The St. Catherine seemed a haven, welcome or not, of disconsolate women. On the broad veranda sat the woman discarded by Earl Williams. Inquisitive society dames raised their very proper eyebrows as they passed and the mournful looking girl appeared as lonesome as any girl could feel, even though Earl had, through his lawyers, handed over a settlement admitted to be at least $40,000. Charlie Chaplin has all the earmarks of a rather distraught young man. He lives at the Los Angeles Athletic club. From his studio comes the word that though he finally is working at another picture, his people never know whether it will be a week or a month before he shows up to don the old derby and the familiar shoes. The fight between Chaplin and Manager Young of Mildred Chaplin was funny. Young is fat and the idea of Chaplin trying to use his fists is funnier than anything he ever did in pictures. Just what the real cause of combat was hasn’t been thoroughly dissected by the scandal mongers. Young says he was trying to protect Mrs. Chaplin from annoyance by her husband. Chaplin says Young is a big stiff and that he (Chaplin) certainly never annoyed his wife. He hasn’t—in public—because they never appear together. Just how the divorce proceedings will work out nobody knows. It is true that Chaplin wishes he was out of it. It is believed that Mrs. Chaplin’s mother is somewhat of a business woman and will have considerable to say before the bones of the affair have rattled their last. Fairbanks and Chaplin are very close friends. One of the newspapers recently published a picture of Mary, Doug and Charlie, purporting to be one taken immediately after the marriage, when Chaplin went to the train with them as they left for an alleged brief scurry to some quiet haunt. As a matter of fact the picture was one taken at the time the trio were leaving on their famous Liberty Loan jaunt, upon which momentous trip Doug and Mary are supposed to have “fallen” for each other good and hard. Poor Owen Moore has become a public goat. The former husband of Mary is a likable enough fellow, quiet and with a winning way that can’t restrain the undoubtable sadness which lurks in a pair of wistful eyes. By the way, ninety-nine women out of a hundred probably would “kotow” to Moore so far as looks are concerned, rather than to Fairbanks. Moore is well set up and handsome in a masculine way. Doug never could be called a thing of beauty and most of his cowboys display better physical form than the agile laugh-maker. All the testimony given by Mary at Minden would tend to indicate that the hour in which Owen did not inject a lot of booze into himself, was a rare hour indeed. If Mary asked Owen to come back to her as often as she says she did, figuring he was the lusher as she sets forth, then indeed Owen, if he loves the girl, hasn’t much of a kick coming.