When he released her, her hat was set at a new and rakish angle, and she had lost too many hair-pins, but to Henry she had never looked half so adorable.
“Of course,” he panted, “everybody else’ll 194 do it too, as soon as we’ve showed ’em how––”
“What––what difference does that make?”
“That’s right, too....” He fairly doubled himself with mirth. “Can’t you just see Mix’s face when he sees this writing on the wall––of the Orpheum?”
“I––I’ve been seeing it all afternoon. When can we start?”
“Right away. Now.” He stopped, rigid. “No, we won’t either. No we won’t. First, we’ve got to see the Judge––we’ve got to make sure there’s no flaw in it. And then––we won’t let anybody copy us!”
“But how can you stop them?”
Henry was electric. “What’s a movie theatre worth on Sunday? When they can’t give a show anyway? I’ll rent every house in town for every Sunday from now ’till August! I’ll have to go slow, so nobody’ll suspect. It may take a month, or two months, but what do we care? We’ll play it sure. It won’t cost too much, and we’ve got the cash in the bank. We’ve––” He paused again, and looked down at her, and his voice fell a semi-tone. “I don’t know where I get all this we stuff. I’d have 195 spent two-thirds of it by this time. You’re the one that’s saved it––and earned it too, by gosh!” He lifted her hands, and while she watched him, with shining eyes, he deliberately kissed the tip of each of her ten fingers. “That’s where the money’s come from,” said Henry, clearing his throat. “Out of dish-water. Only tonight we’re going out to a restaurant and eat ourselves logy, and you won’t wash a damn dish. It’s my party.”