But I still have status as a critic. I am invited to a showing of Mary's picture, "Little Lord Fauntleroy," and asked for suggestions. They know that I'll criticise. I always do and they are afraid of me. Though when they look at my pictures they are always kind and sympathetic and never criticise.
I told Mary her picture was too long. I told her where to cut it. Which, of course, she doesn't do. She never does.
She and Doug listen politely and the picture stands. It always does.
Newspaper men are at the hotel. I go through the same barrage of questions. My "prop" grin does duty for fifteen minutes. I escape.
Douglas 'phones me. He wants to be nice to me. I am on my vacation and he wants it to be a very pleasant one. So he invites me to see "The Three Musketeers" again. This time at its first showing before the public.
Before the opening of Doug's picture we were to have dinner together, Mary and Doug, Mrs. Condé Nast and I.
I felt very embarrassed at meeting Mrs. Nast again. Somewhere there lurks in my memory a broken dinner engagement. It worried me, as I had not even written. It was so foolish not to write. I would be met probably with an "all-is-forgiven" look.
I decide that my best defence is to act vague and not speak of it. I do so and get away with it.
And she has the good taste not to mention it, so a pleasant time is had by all.
We went to the theatre in Mrs. Nast's beautiful limousine. The crowds were gathered for several blocks on every side of the theatre.