"Have a nice time," says Alex, gettin' up and grabbin' my arm. "We'll wait outside for you. One dose a day of Carrington De Vire is all I can take!"
The bunch in back glares at us and says somethin' about what a crime it is to let drunken men come into a theatre.
Outside on the pavement, Alex lets forth a snort and whiffs the fresh air like it was wine.
"Think of my wife sittin' in there and worshippin' that big stiff," he snarls. "And yours, too!"
"We all have our faults," I says. "I knowed a guy once which was crazy over fried parsnips."
"They ain't nothin' to laugh at in this," he says, slappin' his hands together. "I ain't a jealous man, but no movie hero is gonna be no god to my wife!"
"Why don't you go in the movies yourself, then?" I says. "They might hire you for a picture with Carrington De Vire in it, and you can knock him kickin' in five reels or the like."
"Huh!" says Alex, "what do I care about the movies? I got a better plan than that and it will accomplish the same purpose. I'll show Eve and the rest of you how easy it is to be a movie hero—I'll make money out of it, too!" he adds, with the old glitter in his eyes.
"What are you gonna do?" I says. "Speak quick, I can't stand excitement!"
For answer he takes me into the hotel across the street and leads me into the writin' room. He sits down and writes on a piece of paper for a minute and then he hands it to me.