Ruth laid down the pictures and for the moment her face reflected the gravity of Helen’s.
“I am afraid of Sol Bloomberg,” she told them simply. “Not that I think that he can get the better of me in a long fight. I believe that when it comes to a matter of endurance I have a far better chance than Bloomberg to win.”
“You bet you have, especially when you consider your wonderful support!” broke in Tom, with a grin.
“I am considering him,” said Ruth, with a grateful glance but no relaxing of her gravity. “That’s one of the things that makes me pretty sure of winning in a long race.
“But, oh, you don’t realize!” She leaned forward and cupped her little fighting chin in one hand while she regarded her companions with an intense earnestness. “It’s impossible for any one to understand who isn’t situated as I am how many small annoyances, little enough in themselves, but terrible when you group them all together, a man like Bloomberg can perpetrate. He knows the picture business through and through, he knows just how to hit in a vital spot and just the time to do it. He knows, and Charlie Reid knows too, that small delays mean actual loss in dollars and cents. He knows that when a company of actors is worked up to acting pitch that just some small delay or the introduction of a ludicrous incident will sometimes completely ruin their morale. He knows—but there!” She checked herself and looked a little embarrassed at her impassioned flow of words. “I’m going on dreadfully and you both must think me a regular kill-joy, but you asked me a question, Helen, and I’ve answered it the best I know how. I am afraid of Sol Bloomberg!”
And this fear was in no way lessened during the busy, interest-filled days that followed.
Ruth might gradually have managed to forget Bloomberg had that man not taken great pains to keep himself alive in her memory. The threatening letter she had received from him just before the Charlie Reid incident proved to be only the first of many.
In the beginning Ruth determined to ignore these sneering missives. But when they continued to pour in upon her she laid the matter in desperation before Tom, and that young gentleman took a prompt and decisive hand in the game.
He wrote just one letter to Sol Bloomberg, and though Ruth never knew exactly what the contents of that letter were, it seemed to have the desired effect upon her enemy.
Bloomberg’s threatening missives ceased to come. But they had left their poison in the air behind them and, day or night, Ruth could never banish completely from her mind the vision of a malignant Bloomberg, promising dire things should she go on with her plans and undertake the filming of “The Girl of Gold.”