“Oh, he means it’s a mix-up,” said George. “But see here—we can’t do it.”
“Which?”
“We can’t put more on you than we’ve done already. I know, I was mean enough to want you to go on with us when I started that talk about our being guyed—it’s different now.”
“Yep,” said Hank.
“Sure,” said Candon.
“Have you done?” asked Tommie. “Well then I’m going on, where’s the damage? I’m used to the rough and the open. That film we were working on is finished and I guess a few days’ holiday won’t do me any harm. B’sides it works up the publicity. Why, every day I’m away is worth a thousand dollars to Wallacks, leaving myself alone. They’ll book that film in Timbuctoo. Do you see? It’s no trouble to me, why should you worry? Now I propose we get something to eat.”
“But how about clothes,” asked George.
“Which, mine? Oh, I reckon I’ll manage somehow. The thing that gets me is a toothbrush.”
“Thank God,” said George.
“Which?”