"She ain't very bright; but she ain't a fool, either. The only trouble with Rhonda is, she's got it in her head she can act since she doubled for me while I was down with the fever. Some one handed her some applesauce, and now she thinks she's some pumpkins. She had the nerve to tell me that I'd get credit for what she did. Believe me, she won't get past the cutting room when I get back to Hollywood—not if I know my groceries and Milt Smith."
"There couldn't anybody act like you, Naomi," said Obroski. "Why, before I ever dreamed I'd be in pictures I used to go see everything you were in. I got an album full of your pictures I cut out of movie magazines and newspapers. And now to think that I'm playin' in the same company with you, and that"—he lowered his voice—"you love me! You do love me, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"Then I don't see why you have to act so sweet on Orman."
"I got to be diplomatic—I got to think of my career."
"Well, sometimes you act like you were in love with him," he said, petulantly.
"That answer to a bootlegger's dream! Say, if he wasn't a big director I couldn't see him with a hundred-inch telescope."
In the far distance a wailing scream echoed through the blackness of the night, a lion rumbled forth a thunderous answer, the hideous, mocking voice of a hyena joined the chorus.
The girl shuddered. "God! I'd give a million dollars to be back in Hollywood."
"They sound like lost souls out there in the night," whispered Obroski.