"Don't you ever think of the story and cry because you are carried away by the imaginative sorrow of the death of the man you love?"
"No," she said, laughing. "How can I? Most of the time I'm really glad—not in the story, of course—that he's out of the picture. The publicity man always refers to me as a star of the emotional type and writes yards upon yards of stuff about how I actually 'live' the part I am playing. My imagination doesn't carry me that far, though, and if imagination is everything, as my director says, the publicity man should be the greatest actor living."
"I don't pay much attention to pictures, but I can't remember ever having seen your name or photograph in the advertisements," he said.
"Have you ever noticed the name of Jean Hope?"
"Often."
"That is the name I took when I had advanced far enough to be featured. It was suggested to me by the publicity man, who insisted upon it being short and snappy, as he said, something that would be easy to remember and easy to put into type. Of course, I am not obscured to my friends, who all know that I am Jean Hope. Only once have I had to be positively firm with the publicity man and that was when he wanted to make me the subject of a newspaper story that society girls, as he called them, were intent upon becoming motion picture actresses. That, for the sake of my friends, I simply had to refuse."
"I think," he said slowly, "that the name your father calls you is the prettiest of them all."
"Mi Primavera?"
"Yes, does anyone else call you that?"