Ruth leaned forward with quickened breath. Just what did he mean by that? She knew that Tom was watching her thoughtfully and felt a sudden rush of compunction. Dear old patient Tom!
But Mr. Hammond was speaking, outlining for her as he had outlined for McCarty a few days before conditions as they were at that time with the Alectrion Film Corporation.
“The whole proposition, boiled down, amounts to this, Miss Fielding,” Mr. Hammond concluded. “Because of a lack of first-class directors we are literally on the rocks, as you can see, and we are looking to you, selfishly, no doubt, to pull our fat out of the fire.”
Ruth drew a long breath and leaned back. Her cheeks were burning, but her hands, clasped together in her lap, felt cold.
“Will you do it?” asked Mr. Hammond, and the other gentlemen, including the dubious McCarty, leaned forward, staring at her.
“It—it’s a very great compliment you are all paying me,” Ruth replied slowly. “I—I—” her voice trailed off and she looked at Tom appealingly.
Tom had been deep in thought, but now his eyes met Ruth’s with an understanding smile. His nod, though almost imperceptible, seemed to raise a thousand-ton weight from the girl’s heart.
She turned to Mr. Hammond, the blood flaming to her face, her little fist doubled up upon the table.
“Mr. Hammond,” she cried, with the light of battle in her eye, “I’ll do it!”