“Heavy is lazy even in her sport,” scoffed Helen. “But I’m game for the rough stuff.”
They crossed the neck of land near the hermit’s hut. There was a hard beach almost in front of the hut, and up this the breakers rolled and foamed delightfully. The so-called hermit, hearing their voices, came out and sat on a rock to watch them. But he did not offer to speak until Ruth went over to him.
“Mr. Hammond let me read your script, John,” she said coldly.
“Indeed?” he rejoined without emotion.
“Where did you get the idea for that scenario?”
He tapped his head with a long forefinger. “Right inside of that skull. I do my own thinking,” he said.
“You did not have any help about it? You originated the idea of ‘Plain Mary?’”
He nodded. “You ain’t the only person who can write a picture,” he observed. “And I think that this one they are filming for you is silly.”
Ruth stared down at him, but said nothing more. She was ready to go back to camp as soon as the others would, and she remained very silent. Mr. Hammond had been asking for her, Miss Loder said. When Ruth had got into something more presentable than a wet bathing suit, she went to his office.
“What do you know about this?” he demanded in plain amazement. “This story the old man gave me to read is a wonder! It is one of the best ideas I ever saw for the screen. Of course, it needs fixing up a bit, but it’s great! What did you think of it, Miss Ruth?”