A London stage-door Johnny, picking up an American actress, along with her glove, offends her Broadway pride, but persuades her to marry him, contrary to parental ambitions. Some months later, he leaves his poor but pregnant wife to seek, aid from home; his father refuses to give in, and he commits suicide. The child is abducted by the relentless grandparent. The expected meeting with his mother takes place in a French house of ill-repute, during the war, where her clean life has finally rewarded her with the job of madame. The worldly-wise young soldier reforms, when he learns that it is his mother who has confessed to his murder, and they depart for happiness in America, as Money-bags leaves the courtroom with a frown of frustration.

Directors should know by this time that young ladies with tendencies toward bow-leggedness and elephantiatic feet do not appear to best advantage in 1923 dancing costumes. Irene Dunne's acting is, however, limited chiefly by the pedicular plot. Phillips Holmes's rank insipidity is outdone only by the performance of the young soldier. Who is not even listed in the program. The only beam of light is supplied by Lionel Atwill, who partially alleviates the mediocrity of "The Secret of Madame Blanche."

The best that can be said about "What. No Beer," the companion-feature, is that it is fine beer propaganda, now a rather useless strip of celluloid. The story, however, is more than worthy of the Keaton-Duraute combination, which seems to have lost, such of its original pop. In addition, Phyllis Barry is undoubtedly the most excellent siren of the season.