But despite his good sportsmanship and his acknowledgment of Ruth’s genius, Tom knew that this new work for Mr. Hammond that she had just pledged herself to undertake would postpone their marriage indefinitely. Despite the fact that he had tacitly given his consent, Tom was sore at heart and found it a distinct effort to join in the spirited conversation that then took place between Ruth and the members of Mr. Hammond’s official staff.
“‘The Girl of Gold’ is a splendid story and we ought to make it a still better photoplay,” Ruth was saying enthusiastically. “I remember what spirited bidding there was at the time you bought the right to film it, Mr. Hammond.”
“The bidding was both spirited and high,” said the producer ruefully. “The film rights set me back about forty thousand dollars, Miss Ruth, and it was that amount we stood to lose in case you were not in a position at this time to help us out.”
“But I am,” said Ruth with her quick smile. “And I feel already like the war horse that hears the bugle call! I suppose,” with a glance toward Raymond Howell, the casting director, “you have an interesting cast.”
“Well, we think so,” responded Howell, with enthusiasm. “If you are quite willing, Miss Fielding, we were hoping to sign over Layton Boardman for the lead. His contract with you has about run out, hasn’t it?”
“I should lend him to you at all events,” responded Ruth, with a smile. “I was about to suggest that he was exactly the type to play Jimmy Drake.”
“There is another interesting feature.” Mr. Hammond leaned toward Ruth with an anticipatory smile. “You remember Edith Lang, the crippled actress?”
“Of course,” cried Ruth eagerly. “Is it possible you can use her?”
“Not only possible, but certain,” returned Mr. Hammond, smiling at Ruth’s enthusiasm. “She is a type made to order for the part of the crippled society woman in the play who eventually finds out that ‘The Girl of Gold’ is none other than her own daughter.”
Ruth clapped her hands with enthusiasm.