“No,” she told a newspaper man, “this is to be my first and my last film. I enjoy the work very much, but naturally it takes up a great deal of my time.”
“Are you returning to Honolulu?” asked our representative.
“No,” replied Miss O’Grady, “I am going on to Paris. My agent has bought me the Duc de Montpelier’s house in the Avenue d’Etoile.”
A week after the picture was finished, Miss Sadie O’Grady waited on the chairman by appointment.
“Well, Sadie,” said that gentleman, leaning back in his chair, and smiling unhappily, “it’s a flivver!”
“You don’t say!” said Sadie aghast.
“We ran it off for the big renter from the North, and he says it is about as bad as it can be, and that all the good in it is so obviously stolen, that he dare not risk the injunction which would follow the first exhibition. Did Simmonds pay you your last week’s salary?”
“No, Mr. Ellsberger,” said the girl.
Ellsberger shrugged.
“That sets me back another twenty pounds,” he said and reached for his cheque-book. “It is tough on you, Sadie, but it’s tougher on us. I’m not so sure that it is so tough on you, though. I spent a fortune advertising you. There isn’t anybody in this country who hasn’t heard of Sadie O’Grady, and,” he added grimly, “you’ve more publicity than I hope I shall get when this business goes into the hands of the Official Receiver.”